The Blue Skies We Wait On
by LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou
Summary: Companion piece to "The Color In Anything"/Collection of random snippets posted in no chronological order/Emily&Aaron/Past/Present/-"Your mother asked me to tell your friend to go home. She wants to talk to you." Emily chuckles. "I thought you were the head of security, not my babysitter."-
1. There Is A First Time For Everything

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

 **This is going to be a collection of random snippets, posted in no chronological order**

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 **I**

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 **-There Is A First Time For Everything-**

 _(The Color In Anything/ First Meeting)_

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The first time Emily Prentiss runs into Aaron Hotchner she's on her way home from a party.

It's six a.m. when she stumbles through the back door, completely and utterly wasted, setting off the alarm the second she pushes the door open. Her sight's all blurry when she types in her code, but for some reason the blaring won't stop.

"What the fuck," she slurs angrily, trying her code again, slower this time, making sure she hits the right buttons. But the alarm won't stop.

With a frown growing on her face Emily tries once more, quietly cursing under her breath, wondering if she mixed up the numbers somehow. She must have.

He shows up out of nowhere, at first nothing but a shadow to her right when he reaches past her to silence the alarm.

"Thank god," Emily murmurs, stumbling backwards to get a better look at the man next to her. Should she know him?

He's tall, with dark hair and dark eyes and a serious expression on his face. Dressed in a black tailored suit with a red tie, starring at her questioningly.

"Who are you?" he asks, and it's only then that Emily realizes he's also pointing his gun at her. Drunk and high as she is, she can't help but laugh.

"Probably not who you expected," she jokes, trying to sound sober. She really shouldn't have had that last bottle of wine. She shouldn't have had _anything_ to begin with.

"I'm Aaron Hotchner, Ambassador Prentiss' Head of Security, and who are you?"

Emily blinks, wondering if her mother mentioned something about this. Maybe. It's not like she listens when her mother talks. It's not that her mother takes the time to talk to her in the first place.

"I'm Aleyna, the housekeeper's daughter," Emily lies, promising to make it up to Aleyna later.

It's brief, but there's a flicker of amusement in the security guy's eyes. Does he know she's lying?

"Is it normal that you sneak in at six in the morning?" he asks, still watching her carefully, but finally holstering his gun.

Emily ignores him and makes her way through the kitchen towards the fridge, anxious not to stumble in her state. She feels him watching her as she grabs herself a bottle of water, and she has to fight the urge to look back at him.

"Make sure my name is on your list," she says, and takes a sip from her water. "The Ambassador won't be pleased if her staff get shot in the kitchen. Just imagine the press."

His chuckle follows her on her way out.

.

She runs into him a second time that day.

"Aleyna, was it?" he asks, and the way he says the name makes clear that he already knows who she really is.

"The housekeeper does have a daughter with that name," Emily answers without so much as a blink, and Aaron nods.

"I know. She's on the list." Despite the seriousness of his appearance, there's laughter in his eyes.

"Are you going to tell my mother?" Emily asks, surprised when he shakes his head.

"That's not what I'm here for, but for the future, be careful about who you run into. Especially when you're intoxicated." He gives her one last look before continuing down the hall, heading straight for her mother's office.

"Why?" Emily can't stop herself from asking.

He stops, turns. "I'm sorry?"

"Why should I be careful?" she asks. Intrigued by the way he's looking at her. It's so different than what she's used to. It's neither disapproving nor is it lewd. It's something else; it's almost-

"You could get hurt," he answers matter of factly. "With your upbringing you might not be able to see it, but out there," he points at the front door, "not everyone means well."

For a moment she's stunned. _And not just because he's wrong_. And he is wrong.

"I shouldn't have talked to you like that," he starts suddenly, running his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture, and Emily spots his wedding band glittering in the dim light. "I'm sorry," he adds, slightly uncomfortable, and Emily thinks this must be his first assignment.

She says nothing, only wishes she would see the innocence he had when he'd looked at her.

.

But she can't.

.

.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	2. Dancing On Rooftops

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

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 **II**

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 **-Dancing On Rooftops-**

 _(The Color In Anything/ Third Meeting)_

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 **.**

It takes exactly three minutes and forty-five seconds before Mrs. Palmer, the woman from across the street, spots her on the roof.

With a satisfied smile on her black painted lips Emily watches as the woman hurries back into her house, leaving the front door wide open in her haste.

 _It won't take long now._

Turning her head towards the sky, Emily starts searching for stars on the darkening horizon.

.

Twelve minutes and thirty seven seconds later there's the unmistakable noise of her bedroom door being forced open, and Emily has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

Another seven seconds later and her mother's head of security, Aaron Hotchner, is looking up at her from her open bedroom window.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"Enjoying the view," Emily slurs innocently, giving the best drunk impression she can muster.

He frowns. "Are you drunk?"

"What do you think?" Emily chuckles, spinning the almost empty vodka bottle in her hands. She hears him groan.

"Why don't you come back down?" he asks, and Emily cocks her head.

"Why don't you come up here?" she taunts, slurring her words just a little bit more before she allows the bottle to slip from between her fingers.

They both watch it shatter into a thousand pieces when it hits the concrete on the driveway below.

 _That could have been me._

"Don't move!" he calls up to her, all frantic now, and Emily almost feels sorry.

"Are you scared?" she asks, trying to hide her amusement.

In truth there's no reason to be scared. She'd started climbing out of her bedroom window as a seven year old, and even wasted she knows exactly where to put her hands and feet and how to keep her balance. Something Aaron Hotchner obviously doesn't know yet. Just like Emily predicted.

 _No one bothered to tell him anything._

In one swift motion and with her arms outstretched she gets up, swaying just a little but enough to make his eyes grow wide in horror.

"For _fuck's sake_ , what are you doing?" He looks _bloody_ frightened now, the color drained from his face, and Emily can't help but chuckle.

He starts to curse something unintelligible under his breath, shrugging off his suit jacket.

"Don't do anything stupid, Emily! I'm coming up now!"

 _Emily._

It's the mere sound of her forename that momentarily startles her, and she watches in surprise as Aaron slips out from her window and pulls himself up onto the roof.

She didn't actually expect him to come and get her himself.

 _No one ever had._

She blinks in surprise as she settles back down on the shingles, watching in silence as he climbs up towards her. When he finally reaches her, she feels sick and her hands are wet with sweat. It was one thing to risk her own life, but a whole different one to risk someone else's.

"You're lucky I'm not afraid of heights," Aaron murmurs, casting a careful glance towards the ground before he sits down next to her.

"So what's your story?" she fake slurs, even though she's not in the mood to play anymore.

He raises his brows. "My story?"

"You're too young to be married," Emily announces, making sure to miss a few vowels to keep up her drunken act. "Did you knock her up?"

The look on his face is priceless.

"No," he states. His voice strained. "I didn't knock her up."

"Then why are you married already? How can you be sure there's not someone else waiting for you out there? How can you be sure she's the right one?"

"I just know."

Emily frowns, his answer not making any sense to her. But then, what the _fuck_ does she know about love?

"How long have you two been together?" she asks, not sure why she even bothers.

"Since high school."

It's the seriousness in his voice that keeps her from laughing. For a while she says nothing, her eyes finally meeting his, when she asks: "What's her name?"

He hesitates, but only for a moment.

"Haley," he answers quietly. "Her name's Haley."

 _He loves her,_ Emily thinks, brushing a strand of dark hair out of her face. _Maybe not all marriages are fucked up._

"If you see Peter," she says, reaching for the ring in the pocket of her shorts. "Do me a favor and give him that."

"Is that his wedding band?"

Emily nods, handing it over. "By now his wife will have noticed it's missing."

"Why do you-" Aaron starts and stops, and Emily avoids looking at his face, afraid of what she might find.

"How old are you again?" he asks suddenly, alarm evident in his voice, and Emily bites her tongue.

Married men in their forties were a safe bet, predictable, easy to play and even easier to blackmail. The simple fact that they got her age all wrong just because she went to Yale was a great benefit, but not her fault.

Peter Grant wasn't the first married guy she _fucked with_ just to _fuck over_ later and he surely wouldn't be the last one, but she's never felt so _dirty_ before.

"When you give it back to him," she says, all calm and composed even though she's feeling anything but, "make it clear you know that he left it on my nightstand. I overheard him talking to your supervisor earlier today and I think you're going to need some leverage pretty soon. This will be more than enough."

"Why are you telling me this?" He sounds stunned, but also worried and maybe a little bit disgusted. Emily can't blame him.

She gives a slight shrug, finally looking back to meet his gaze. "I'm still trying to figure that out myself."

.

They climb back into her bedroom three minutes and twenty-one seconds later, Aaron helping her down the windowsill even though there's no need to.

"You're not drunk are you?" he asks, his hand lingering on hers just a little longer than necessary.

Emily shakes her head, offering him a smug smile. "I never said I was."

He chuckles, reaching for his suit jacket on the floor and pointing at the broken lock on her door. "I'll make sure that gets fixed first thing tomorrow morning."

Emily nods, watches him on his way out. He stops in the doorframe, his dark eyes finding hers once more. Even though his eyes are just as dark as her own, his hold a light.

"Just for the record," he states, "if you ever want to talk to me again, you don't have to climb on a roof to make me listen."

"She must be really happy," Emily says before she can stop herself.

"Who?" Aaron asks, studying her curiously.

"Your wife," Emily answers. "Haley."

And for the first time in her life Emily wishes she knew what it felt like to be loved.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	3. Playing With Fire

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

 **Warning: (light) smut (mostly between the lines, nothing graphic), dark &twisty**

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 **III**

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 **-Playing With Fire-**

 _(The Color In Anything/First Time)_

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 _"When it happened, it just happened."_

 _._

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Dressed in nothing more than a white button-down with her bare legs dangling over the edge, Emily Prentiss is sitting on the kitchen island. Her long hair is falling into her face, perfectly undone, and still a little wet from the shower.

She's not drunk, but she isn't sober either. Her pupils just the slightest bit dilated.

There's also a reason why she's sitting here, on a Monday morning, looking like she just woke up, when in truth she never went to bed to begin with.

She's waiting, waiting for _him._

He'll be here early, he always is, and he'll have to pass the kitchen on his way down the hall to her mother's office.

"When did you say he would show up?" Julian asks from where he's leaning against the open back door, smoking what's left of her weed while he keeps an eye on the driveway.

"Soon," Emily answers, re-adjusting her button down in the reflection of the kitchen window. "And remember, Julian, it has to look real, but it won't be, are we clear?"

"Crystal," Julian replies with a chuckle, his hands playfully raised, and Emily tries not to roll her eyes at him. After all he's doing her a favor.

"Are you trying to get him fired or something?"

"I'm just testing a theory."

Julian raises his brows questioningly, but Emily doesn't bother explaining. Not this time. Not when she's not entirely sure what she's doing here herself.

"He's coming," Julian announces a moment later, just a little too eagerly. "Let's get started." He gives her a smug grin and this time Emily does roll her eyes. He's nestled between her legs a moment later, one hand in her hair and the other hovering on the hem of her button-down. His lips moving against hers with accuracy, harmless foreplay that makes her feel nothing at all.

With her arms around his neck and her eyes closed, Emily waits for the sound of footsteps coming closer. It doesn't take long, the sure stride unmistakably his, until there's a sudden pause and Emily feels him watching from the doorframe of the kitchen.

At first there's nothing and then Julian is pulled backwards and away from her, with just the tiniest bit of force.

"Hey man, what-" Julian starts complaining, just like Emily told him to, even though he's most likely not just pretending. "We were just having fun, you know?"

"The fun is over," Aaron states, all serious and daunting, pointing at the backdoor. "It's time for you to leave."

"Jealous much?" Julian chuckles, but Emily has known him long enough to catch the unease building in his eyes.

"Go home," Aaron states once more, his voice strained. His face a stoic mask. "I won't tell you again."

Julian gives her a quick look and Emily, just like they'd planned, bites her lip in response. He looks disappointed but he's gone a moment later.

"Bad night?" Emily taunts, cocking her head slightly and looking Aaron up and down in feigned curiosity. "You're here early."

"You love getting into trouble, don't you?"

He's not asking her a question, so Emily only gives him a smile, wetting her lips with her tongue.

It's a dangerous game, but one she's _damn_ good at playing and she's certain he won't touch her anyway. He's too keen on following orders to fall for her pretty face or her slender legs, too smart to risk his career or his reputation over a quickie. He's also happily married.

Emily's longing for a _reaction_ though, _he's only a man after all,_ even if he'll take care of said _reaction_ in the bathroom without her help.

She allows the fabric of her button-down to ride up, _just a little bit further,_ and spreads her legs, _just a little bit more._

What follows is a string of curse words she never expected to hear coming out of his mouth. He turns away abruptly, shrugging out of his suit jacket and handing it over to her immediately.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" Emily chuckles, but takes it.

"Just-" he starts and stops, raking a hand through his dark hair, and Emily feels more than just a little satisfied, knows he's about to _fucking_ lose it, and she admires his self control because no one ever lasted that long.

"Afraid you won't be able to behave?" she teases, carefully folding his jacket in half. There's a long, blonde hair stuck at the collar and the faint scent of something sweet, cinnamon maybe, caught in the fabric. She wonders if his wife, Haley, kissed him goodbye this morning.

"You shouldn't be doing this," he murmurs quietly, and it sounds like a plea.

"Probably not," she admits, putting his jacket down on the counter next to her. "But it's so much fun, isn't it?"

What happens next is totally unexpected, _intense_ , and it happens so fast Emily barely has time to blink.

He's across the room in two strides, pulling her roughly against his chest with his arm around her waist and his hand at the back of her head. There's a quick pause, his eyes locked with hers, _dark eyes aflame,_ before he starts kissing her like she's never been kissed before.

And cliché or not, it's a kiss that makes her world stop turning.

She's never been aroused like this, _not even when touching herself,_ and she throws her arms around his neck, almost desperately, to keep him close. Her breathing just as heavy and uneven as his while she's spinning straight into oblivion.

She feels his lips trail down her neck and when he starts sucking at her tender flesh, her mind goes completely blank and within seconds she's gasping for air, a burning need trying to rip her apart. She pulls him close and closer with her legs around his hips, her hands already unzipping his suit pants.

He doesn't hesitate and a split second later their bodies are one, moving in perfect sync. He has his face buried in her neck, his teeth grazing her skin and his hands tangled in her dark hair, pulling slightly. It's too much and yet it's not enough and she can't help but let out a strangled sob, a desperate plea for more. And then with his lips firmly pressed against hers to stifle her moans, he sends her falling over the edge, _hard and fast_ , and it's so much better than when she does it herself.

He follows suit, his whole body shuddering when he _comes_ , and for one single heartbeat there is no sound as the sunlight streaming through the windows baths them in a warm, eerie glow.

.

The fire dies as soon as it's over, leaving nothing but smoke and ashes behind.

The air is still buzzing with energy, the scent of sweat and sex and _them_ lingering in the small room, and Emily feels claustrophobic just being held. She pushes him back slightly and he pulls away from her, stumbling backwards until he hits the kitchen sink with a thud.

Emily draws a shaking breath.

 _Fuck._

"Emily-" he starts, his voice thick with regret and guilt and she just shakes her head, willing him to stop talking.

She tries to straighten her rumpled button-down, her hands trembling and her cheeks flushed. Her body tingling with the aftermath of what just happened. She's longing for more, much more, and the urge to slip her hand between her legs, _despite the fact that she's in the damn kitchen_ , just to satisfy the aching need makes her feel even more guilty.

 _What is wrong with me?_

He looks as miserable as she feels, though surely not for the same reasons, and when he reaches for her hand to help her down from the kitchen island she flinches as if she's been burned.

 _I might have just ruined his whole life._

"Don't worry," she states, and finally meets his eyes, unblinking. "I'm very good at keeping secrets."

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 _"When it happened, it didn't just happen._

 _It was planned in agonizing detail. And he never ever stood a chance."_

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	4. Self Destructive Behavior

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a special thank you goes to my beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

 **Warning: dark &twisty**

 **Also, just a quick reminder- there's no chronological order in this collection! I'll be jumping back and forth in time and all those snippets will be connected to my multi-chapter-story "The Color In Anything"**

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 **IV**

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 **-Self Destructive Behavior-**

 _(The Color In Anything/March 2009)_

.

She attends Matthew's funeral even though she knows she's not welcome there.

Aaron's hovering behind her, his hand on the small of her back, and even though he only means well, Emily wishes he hadn't come with her.

She listens to the priest with her head held high, trying to ignore the cold stares from Matthew's family. But his mother isn't the only one watching her; John does too, and it makes Emily feel more and more uncomfortable.

She makes it halfway through the service before it becomes too much. The words of the priest turn into a hum and her sight begins to narrow. Colors blurring together in front of her eyes while she fumbles with the collar of her coat, her hands wet with sweat.

 _What am I even doing here?_

She tries to remember the last time she saw Matthew, tries to remember the last time she talked to him, but she can't, and the truth is she hasn't even thought about him in years.

She's never looked back, not once, eager to leave everything and everyone behind. Trying to forget.

 _But some things you just can't forget, can you?_

She turns abruptly, pushing past people and walking back to her car, not looking back once.

.

* * *

.

When John opens the door, he doesn't seem surprised to see her.

"Emily," he says, a smug smile on his lips and the same _fucking_ attitude he wore twenty years ago. "Why are you here?"

It's not a question; they both know how this is going to end.

"You know why," she answers nonchalantly, stepping over the threshold, out of the bright morning sun and into the dark hallway of his house.

.

They share a bottle of scotch and a pack of cigarettes, even though it's not even noon and Emily quit smoking years ago.

When he produces a bag of blue pills out of his jacket pocket she gulps two down without even asking what it is.

"You haven't changed a bit," she slurs, taking another swig straight from the bottle.

John shrugs, his face swimming in front of her eyes. "You haven't either."

She reaches for the pills once more but Matthew, _no John,_ she reminds herself, John, stops her with his hand over hers.

"You've had enough, honey."

But she hasn't. Not even close. And when he bends forward to kiss her, she lets him.

He tastes like scotch and cigarettes and regret and it feels just as wrong as it felt the first time all those years ago, but she's desperate in her grief and she grabs the collar of his shirt to pull him even closer against her trembling body.

.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" he wants to know later, sprawled out next to her on the shabby living room carpet.

"Maybe," Emily answers quietly. She's feeling sick and not just because she had too much to drink. She shouldn't be here, but where a part of her feels guilty, another doesn't, and she shouldn't be anywhere else either.

"So you and your boss, are you two-"

"Don't go there, John," Emily warns, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. To her surprise, he doesn't say anything further. Maybe he's just as high as she is. Or maybe he doesn't really care about her answer in the first place.

"It wasn't your fault, you know," John states after a pause, his fingers trailing down her naked body, and it takes all of Emily's self control not to flinch.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Emily. You think it's your fault that he's dead, but it's not."

"You're right," she murmurs, slowly turning around to face him. "It wasn't my fault."

"Of course not, you-"

"It's _our_ fault, John."

At first he looks stunned, but then he just looks furious, and Emily can feel his whole body tense.

"It's not my fault that he started doing drugs. You were the one who pulled him into this mess, weren't you?"

"So it was my fault after all?" Emily sits up, shaking her head and reaching for her clothes tossed carelessly on the floor.

"That's not what I meant, Emily!"

"But that's what you said."

"I'm just saying that it wasn't my fault!"

"Well if it wasn't yours, John, then who's fault was it?"

He looks lost and confused and _high_ and Emily wishes she'd never come back here. She gets dressed before she stumbles to her feet, all the while ignoring the way John is looking at her.

 _I need to get out of here._

"I'm sorry, Emily, I didn't-" He reaches for her hand and she takes a step back.

"Don't touch me," she begs, glad when he doesn't follow on her way out.

.

* * *

.

"Emily?" Aaron asks, clearly startled to find her standing in front of his apartment door. "What are you doing here?"

 _I wish I knew,_ she thinks, but says nothing.

She's not sure how to explain that she's scared of the dark.

"Are you alright?" Aaron adds, worry growing on his face. "Emily?" he reaches for her, but stops himself halfway and it's then Emily catches sight of the children's book in his hands.

 _Jack._

She takes an involuntary step back.

"Emily?" Aaron tries again, and this time he sounds not just worried, but tired.

 _I shouldn't have come._

Before she has the time to come up with an excuse and leave, there's Jack. He's wearing PJ's, his teddy bear tucked under his arm and a solemn look on his angelic face.

"It's story time," he tells her, his voice all serious, his dark eyes searching hers curiously, and Emily wonders if he knows she works with his father. He's seen her in the office once or twice, sure, but she's always avoided actually meeting him. It's what they agreed on, _she and Haley._

She can't help but take another step back.

Jack frowns and Emily wonders what Haley will have to say about this. They had rules, _she and Haley,_ even though they probably meant nothing anymore. But she wasn't sure, hadn't talked to Haley in almost a year. Not since Aaron had been served with divorce papers and everything had become so _damn_ complicated.

"You can listen too if you want," Jack announces suddenly, making Emily blink in surprise. "You just have to be really quiet," he adds conspiratorially, already reaching for her hand.

.

When Emily opens her eyes she finds herself curled up under a blanket on Aaron's couch, Jack's teddy bear clutched in between her hands. The living room dimly lit but empty, the whole apartment plunged into silence.

She sits up slowly, fighting against the dizziness that takes over instantly. She tries to remember how she ended up here, but it's all a blur.

"Jack thinks you need his teddy bear more than he does."

Startled, Emily looks up to find Aaron coming over from the kitchen.

"I guess this won't hurt either," he mutters, and offers her a glass of bourbon. Emily takes it with her free hand, but doesn't drink.

"I shouldn't have come," she explains hoarsely, her voice still thick with sleep. "I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry." And she is. Jack would ask questions, Haley would be furious, and Aaron would have to pay the price for all of it.

He stays quiet and Emily swallows, feeling even worse than before. She puts Jack's teddy carefully on the coffee table and gets up.

"I should go."

"You don't have to."

For a moment she's tempted to stay, but then Emily just shakes her head, handing Aaron back her drink.

"I can't."

She's looking for something he won't be able to give her anyway.

.

* * *

.

When she calls him again, John has the decency to feign surprise.

He shows up in front of her apartment half an hour later and she doesn't wait for him to utter a word before she pulls him inside.

There's no talking, no foreplay, no undressing- only the sound of zippers being pulled down and fabric being ripped apart.

She lets him _fuck_ her pushed up on the hallway dresser and it's _rough_ and _rushed_ and all she wants is to hurt him just as badly as he hurt her twenty years ago.

.

"Doesn't your boyfriend have anything to say about this?" John asks her later, sounding surprisingly sober even though the bottle of scotch on the coffee table is half empty already.

"He's not my boyfriend," Emily slurs, and wishes he'd stop talking and just _fuck_ her again. "I don't do commitment. He knows that."

"Why?" John wants to know, and there's honesty in his voice she doesn't like. She can't have yet another man fall in love with her.

"I didn't invite you to talk," she growls, and scoots over to straddle him in one swift motion.

It doesn't make her feel any better though.

.

They're on her bed, his hands in her hair and all over her body. Something has changed, even when she isn't sure what it is.

He's too careful, too gentle, too eager to please her. This isn't right and it's not what she wants or what she needs. Her head feels too heavy and her chest too tight and then, without warning, she's feeling horribly sick.

"Stop," she breathes, trying to pull away from John, but not really managing anything. "Matthew, stop it," she slurs, and this time he stops immediately and it takes her a moment to understand that she just called him Matthew.

"What's wrong?" he asks, and he sounds startled and worried and Emily just wants him to be quiet. She swallows against the nausea, willing the room to stop spinning.

"Damn it, Emily, how much did you take?" She feels his hand on her chin, forcing her to look back at him. She faintly remembers the pills spilled on her coffee table.

 _She took two, no three. Or wait, maybe four?_

"How many, Emily?"

She wants to tell him to _fuck off,_ but instead she bends over the side of her bed, vomiting on the floor. John starts to curse, his panic tangible now, and Emily wishes she'd never met him again in the first place.

They've never been good for each other, or anyone else for that matter.

The only thing they were both remarkably good at was destroying everything and everyone around them.

She must have said it out loud, because the next thing she hears is her front door falling shut behind him.

.

* * *

.

When Emily wakes up it's dark and for one awful moment she has no idea where she is. But then there's a familiar voice, soft and soothing and a hand gently put upon hers.

"Emily?"

Turning her head seems to be strangely difficult, but when she finally succeeds she finds Aaron seated on the edge of her bed. His face worn with worry. And she thinks that in the faint light that's falling through her open bedroom curtains, he looks ten years older than he did yesterday.

 _This is on me._

"Can you hear me?" he asks, and Emily swallows. She tries to remember what happened and then wishes she doesn't.

She nods, swallows again. "Where's John?"

Aaron looks sorry. "I don't know," he answers. "You were alone when I got here."

She almost laughs.

 _Of course._

"At least he called you."

Aaron frowns. "No, you did."

Emily blinks. "I called you?" she echoes, her brows furrowed, and Aaron nods. He seems calm, but she knows he's not. He's more worried than ever and it's all too visible in his eyes. It's been like this for months now, ever since Colorado.

"I have something for you," Aaron announces suddenly, and then he's up and on his way out of the room. When he comes back there's something in his hands. _A small stuffed animal_ , _a penguin to be exact_ , Emily notices, slightly confused.

"Jack insisted I buy it for you," Aaron explains as he sits back down next to her. "When I asked him why, he told me because you looked so sad and lonely and because he learned in pre-school that penguins are faithful and stay together for as long as they live." Aaron gives a quiet laugh. "You probably think it's stupid and that's alright, but he was so serious about this and I didn't have the heart to say something. You don't have to keep it of course, just donate it or-"

"Tell him it's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," Emily whispers, her fingers brushing against Aaron's when she reaches for the stuffed animal in his hands.

"You raised him well," she adds. "You and Haley."

He nods, looking down at their tangled hands, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth and Emily feels like crying.

She doesn't though.

She's not even sure she knows how.

There's a heavy silence between them, until Emily utters the only thing that's left to say even when it's not necessary because Aaron knows it anyway:

"I'm sorry."

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	5. For All The Lies That Will Come True

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

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 **V**

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 **-For All The Lies That Will Come True-**

 _(The Color In Anything/Swimming Part I)_

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With her legs dangling in the water, Emily sits at the edge of the pool, watching the house from behind her sunglasses.

She's wearing nothing more than a skimpy pair of black shorts and a shirt that's not really a shirt anymore and even though it might be fitting for the unbearable summer heat, her mother would flip the second she spotted her, even more so when she saw the bottle of vodka. It was broad daylight, after all.

"Your mother is going to kill you," Sarah states from where she's lying next to Emily, stretched out on the lawn, wearing only a bikini and a pair of sunglasses herself. "No wait," she adds, reaching for the half empty bottle. "She's probably going to kill us both."

Emily shakes her head. "Don't worry, you won't even see her. She'll tell someone else to take care of it."

Sarah chuckles. "You want _him_ to take care of it, don't you?"

Emily says nothing; it's pretty clear what she wants. Especially to Sarah.

"What is it with him anyway?" Sarah wonders out loud. "He seems far too boring for your taste."

"I don't know yet," Emily answers absently, her eyes still fixed on the house.

"Don't get me wrong, he looks kinda hot despite the suit and the wedding band, but he doesn't have a lot to say, right?"

Emily shakes her head. "No, not yet. But he will. Soon."

"If you don't get him fired first," Sarah points out with a laugh, but Emily just waves her off.

"I already took care of that."

"Wait a second-" Sarah pushes herself up on her elbows. "You didn't sleep with his supervisor too, did you? I mean this guy is what, sixty?"

Emily rolls her eyes. "He's not. But for the record I didn't. It was much easier than that."

Sarah makes a face. "I'm not sure I want to hear this."

"I'm not going to tell you anyway," Emily teases with a cocky grin, before taking back the bottle of vodka.

With a feigned look of hurt Sarah sinks back onto the lawn. "You know, Em, sometimes you scare the hell out of me."

"I do?" Emily can't help but laugh at that. "Why?"

Sarah shrugs. "You're far too good at getting what you want."

"It's not like I'm robbing banks or something," Emily smirks. It was true though, she was good at getting what she wanted. And she was getting better every day.

"Maybe you should join the CIA or something," Sarah murmurs, lighting a spliff she just pulled from her bag.

"We're not in a James Bond movie, Sarah!" Emily shakes her head, still laughing, taking the spliff out of Sarah's hand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Startled, Emily turns around, truly surprised to find Aaron right behind her. _He's good, I didn't even hear him coming._

"Why?" Emily asks with the most innocent smile she can muster. "What's going to happen if I do?" She watches him closely, while she takes her time guiding the spliff between her lips.

He stays quiet, but the sweat building on his forehead isn't just because of the heat.

"Your mother asked me to tell your friend to go home. She wants to talk to you."

Emily chuckles, handing the spliff back to Sarah. "I thought you were the head of security, not my babysitter."

"It definitely wasn't in the job description."

This time it's Sarah who starts laughing.

"Maybe I was wrong, he might not be as boring as I thought he was."

"Told you so," Emily smirks, still watching him from behind her sunglasses. "Why don't you sit down a bit? It's too hot to work anyway, isn't it?"

She watches him shake his head. "Unlike you, I don't get the luxury of doing nothing for a living."

 _Touché._

"That's too bad," Emily sighs, before getting to her feet in one graceful move. "I'm sure you'd enjoy that almost as much as I do."

She takes a step towards him, not really surprised when he takes one back. "Let's just get inside, your mother seemed pretty serious about this."

"What if I don't?" Emily taunts, reaching for his tie before he has the time to move further away from her. "Are you going to throw me over your shoulder and carry me inside kicking and screaming?"

He swallows and Emily bites her lip playfully, slowly wrapping his tie around her finger. _Just a little bit closer._

He turns to the right and takes another step back, trying his best to put some distance between them, just like she knew he would.

"Emily-" he starts and for a second she's tempted to just give up and follow him inside, but then she doesn't.

"Maybe we should wait and find out?" she whispers, bending closer, her finger still wrapped around his tie.

"Emily-" he tries once more, taking another step backwards and realizing far too late that he's already balancing on the edge of the pool. Emily watches his eyes widen in surprise and a part of her almost feels sorry for him.

He reaches for her instinctively, but instead of keeping himself upright, he only ends up dragging her in with him and Emily can't help but be proud of herself.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	6. You Can Sleep While I Drive

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

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 **VI**

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 **-You Can Sleep While I Drive-**

 _(The Color In Anything/First Car Ride Home)_

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It's the middle of the night and he's at the other end of town, on his way home, when he spots her walking on the side of the road.

At first he's sure he's mistaken, but when he glances in the rearview mirror he realizes he's not. He pulls over, already calling her name when he steps out of his car.

She stops and turns, swaying dangerously on her feet.

"What are you doing here?" she slurs, swallowing most of the vowels.

"I could ask you the same," he states with growing unease, while he wonders if she's really drunk or just playing him all over again. "Do you even know where you are?" he adds, watching her closely.

"Sure, I..." she turns, first to her right, then to her left, and when she turns back to him she not only looks confused, but dizzy. He hurries forward, closing the gap between them just in time before she stumbles, falling straight into his arms.

"I got you," he states unnecessarily, steadying her carefully, not exactly sure where to put his hands. The skimpy black dress she's wearing isn't leaving many appropriate options.

"I'm fine," she slurs, pulling back instantly, just to stumble in the other direction. He catches her with his arm around her hip, her studded belt pressed against his arm, ready to tear his suit jacket to pieces.

"Maybe you should sit down for a moment," Aaron states, already walking her in the direction of his car and trying his very best to keep her from falling over a third time.

"Aren't you scared I'm going to throw up?" she slurs curiously, as he makes her sit down on the passenger side. Her head leaned back against the seat, her slender legs dangling out of the open door.

"No," Aaron shakes his head, by now sure that she's not just playing him, but indeed _that_ drunk. "Because if you do, you're going to clean it up yourself."

She looks amused at his seriousness, but stays quiet and watches him curiously as he slips out of his jacket, handing it over to her.

"Always the gentleman," she muses drunkenly, but takes it anyway, and when she does he spots the blood.

"You're bleeding," he states, reaching for her arm on instinct.

Emily frowns, blinks. Nods. "Oh, yeah right. It's nothing. You should see the other guy."

"What happened?" Aaron asks, alarm evident in his voice and his eyes on the cut on the inside of her forearm. It didn't look good.

"Nothing happened." Emily waves him off with a shrug, trying to pull back. "I can look after myself just fine, you know."

"You need stiches."

"No, I don't."

"It'll leave a scar."

"I'm fine with that."

Aaron fights a groan. "Don't move," he tells her sternly, making his way to the back of the car to search for the first aid kit in the trunk.

"It's nothing," Emily starts once more. "There's no need-"

"It's either this," Aaron states firmly, first aid kid in hand, "or the hospital."

If she wasn't so drunk she might have tried to run, he's sure of it.

"Fine," she gives in after a moment, reluctantly offering him her arm when he bends down in front of her.

"What happened to the guy?" he asks casually as he starts cleaning the wound, noticing that she's watching every move.

"I broke his nose," she states calmly, and Aaron can't help but chuckle.

"I guess I should be careful then."

"You should be careful anyway. I'm nothing but trouble."

It's the way she says it that makes him lift his head to look at her. It's brief, but he catches the shadow of sadness in her eyes.

He bandages her arm in silence, all the while wondering if it might be better to take her to the hospital anyway. If her mother found out about any of this...oh well, he was _fucked_ anyway.

"Promise me you let someone else take a look at it first thing tomorrow."

"You mean today," Emily states, and points at his watch.

 _Fuck._

Haley's going to kill him.

It must have shown on his face, because the next thing he knows Emily's pulling herself back to her feet with her hand on the open car door. "I'd better go going now."

"I won't let you walk. Not at this time of the night. Not in your state. And definitely not in _that_ dress."

"What's wrong with my dress?"

"It's not much of a dress to begin with."

"Let me guess, you wouldn't allow your wife to wear one like it?"

Aaron scoffs, almost laughing. "Haley would never want to wear something like that."

"Oh, so you want her to? If you do, I'll tell you where I got it."

"What?" Aaron frowns.

"You're staring," Emily states smugly, and Aaron feels his cheeks flush.

 _What is it with this girl?_

 _She makes me feel like a teenager all over again._

"To my defense, it's really hard not to," he murmurs more to himself than to her, before he gets up to put the first aid kit back in the trunk.

She starts laughing softly and Aaron catches himself thinking that she's got the sweetest laugh he's ever heard.

"I'm fine," she proclaims when he shuts the trunk. "Seriously. And you've done more than enough."

He has to admit she's already sobered up quite a bit. But he doesn't miss the way she has to hold on to the roof of his car to keep herself from stumbling. He shakes his head.

"Get back in," he states. Gentle, but firm, leaving no place to argue. As if he would have let her walk home all by herself.

"I'll take you."

.

The drive back to the Ambassador's house is quiet. Emily falls asleep almost as soon as he starts the car, her head resting against the window. His suit jacket tightly pulled around her small body.

Asleep she looks even younger than she is and with all the attitude gone, she almost seems like a completely different girl. Right now there isn't much of a troublemaker left.

But then again, he never thought she was one to begin with.

The moment he stops the car in front of the house her eyes flash open. For a moment she looks confused, but then she sits up straight, pushing her long hair out of her face.

"Thank you," she says, and she looks just as surprised by those words as he is. She gets out of the car in one graceful move, making him wonder how, considering just how wasted she'd been not long ago.

She's about to close the door when she stops. "Your jacket," she reminds herself, already slipping it down her shoulders.

"Keep it," Aaron offers before he can think better of it. When she turns to look at him, there's something in her eyes he hasn't seen before.

 _Hope._

"Why do you care about me?" she asks, her eyes searching his for an answer and Aaron has to push himself to hold her gaze. Afraid she might find what he doesn't dare admit to himself.

"Someone should," he finally says, and regrets it the second he catches the flicker of hurt in her dark eyes.

"I don't think that's enough," she whispers almost sadly, before she shuts the door in his face, not looking back once on her way up to the house.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	7. For All The Things That I Have Done

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

 **Warning: dark &twisty I guess (Also, a quick reminder, I made Emily younger than she is on the show)**

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 **VII**

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 **-For All The Things That I Have Done-**

 _(The Color In Anything/Peter Grant)_

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With her eyes fixed on the kitchen island, Emily's sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in her hands.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop thinking about _him_. The mere thought of his hands on her skin was enough to make her tremble, and more than once she's found herself locked in her bedroom, _touching herself._

To her dismay it wasn't the same. Not even close.

Pushing her cup of coffee aside Emily takes a breath, wishing she could understand herself. She'd never cared about sex. Sure, _she_ _did it_ , but only as a means to an end, not because she actually _enjoyed_ it. She couldn't explain it, but with _him_ , with Aaron, things had been different.

 _And now all I want is to do it again._

Just another thing she'd never wanted to do before and it scared her so much that she'd done a decent job avoiding him. Thank god the _damn_ house was so big.

Fighting the urge to throw her coffee cup against the wall, she gets to her feet. She has just put her empty cup in the dishwasher when she spots Peter, watching her from the doorframe to the kitchen.

 _Fuck._

"What do you want, Peter?"

"You're so sure of yourself, aren't you?" he spits, his eyes turning dark, and Emily has to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

"What do you want, Peter?" she asks once more, taking a step back, bored out of her mind already.

"You told him about us and now he's threatening to tell my wife that I didn't just betray her, but that I betrayed her with some teenage girl." He sounds both angry and surprised.

"It's true, isn't it?"

"Why'd you do it?" he growls. "Did you plan to screw me over all along?"

"Well, you've been thinking about _screwing_ me since the moment we met, haven't you? And you knew exactly how old I was."

He's through the room in two strides, has her pinned against the kitchen counter with ease.

"You stupid little-"

"Who's stupid here?" Emily drawls, all smug and feisty. Not even a little bit scared of the man in front of her. "I overheard you talking to your supervisor; you were the one planning to screw him over."

"You have no idea what you're talking about. You're just a spoiled little brat-"

"I remember you saying something else entirely when you _fucked_ me on my bedroom floor."

"Who would believe you anyway," he scoffs, but Emily can see the fear in his eyes. "Everyone knows you're nothing but trouble."

"Don't forget that cute little birthmark on your..." Emily allows her voice to trail off and doesn't even blink when he tightens his grip on her arms.

"Admit it," she dares him in an almost gentle voice. "You're just _pissed_ because he's not the loser you hoped he would be. You thought you could push him around, but he's going to be promoted soon, and you won't. You never will."

"Shut up, just-"

"And you know what, Peter?" she teases, still not done, and bends forward to whisper into his ear. "We _fucked_ right here and he _fucked_ me so much better than you ever did."

She's smacked sideways and thrown back against the fridge the second the words have left her mouth. Her head hits the door with a dull thud, and against her better judgment, Emily can't stop herself from laughing.

"That's all you've got?" she chuckles darkly, her fingers brushing against her lips and coming away red. "You're even more pathetic than I thought you were."

When he strikes her again, she hits the wall, her head feeling ready to explode. For a second there's nothing but pain, her sight turning black, and she has to reach for the counter to keep herself from falling.

"That's more like it," she presses between clenched teeth and manages a smug smile, despite the pain in her head.

When she looks up to meet his gaze, Peter's stumbling backwards, his eyes wide in horror. He's cursing under his breath, panic written all over his face, and Emily doesn't really understand what's going on until she feels something warm and wet at the back of her head.

There are footsteps in the hallway, followed by a familiar voice. "Emily? Are you home? I need to borrow your red dress, David told me to come over tonight."

 _Sarah._

Peter's out the backdoor in the blink of an eye, the kitchen empty by the time Sarah rounds the corner. "There you are, Em! Did you hear what I said, I need to borrow- oh, my god. Emily!"

Sarah is next to her in seconds, already yelling for help, and Emily briefly wonders who she's yelling for.

The room starts spinning without warning and Emily has to shut her eyes, but it doesn't help and she's doubled over a moment later, vomiting right where she's standing on the kitchen floor.

Sarah keeps screaming, while Emily wonders if she just ruined her best friend's shoes. Sarah would never let her hear the end of it if she had.

Her knees are just about to give in when there's an arm slipping around her waist keeping her upright and even without opening her eyes she knows it's _him._

"Call 911," Aaron orders, and it takes Emily a whole lot longer than it should to understand that he must be talking to Sarah.

He pulls her hair back in one swift move, apparently not bothered by the risk of getting his suit ruined, and she faintly remembers what he told her a few weeks back when he picked her up at the other end of town.

"I'm going to clean it up," she slurs. "I promise." She tries to laugh it off, wondering why she sounds so incoherent when she hasn't even had a drink.

"Don't worry about that," Aaron answers, sounding more worried than anything else and if she hadn't been so dizzy, she might have tried to make him laugh.

"It's going to be okay," she hears him murmur against her ear, and she isn't sure who he's trying to calm down with that, him or her. "I've got you," he adds, his words almost drowned out by the sound of sirens in the distance. "I've got you, Emily."

And she can't help but think: _no. You don't._

.

When she wakes up in the hospital she's not alone. The chair beside her bed is empty, except for Sarah's bag, making it clear she couldn't be far away.

"She wanted to get some coffee," Aaron explains from where he's standing in front of the window. His suit jacket nowhere to be seen, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows. His tie missing. He looks tired. _Exhausted_. His stoic expression all gone.

"How are you feeling?" he asks after a moment of silence, and Emily wonders what he's even doing here. Her mother wouldn't be happy if she heard about this.

 _It might cost him is job._

"I'm fine," Emily answers, not sure what else to say. Wishing he would just stop looking at her the way he is.

"You need to tell me what happened, Emily."

It's not a question, it's an order, and Emily doesn't even think about telling him a _bloody_ thing. After all she got what she deserved. It was her own _fucking_ fault.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She watches him cross his arms in front of his chest. "Peter already confessed."

 _No, he hasn't._

 _You're just trying to get me to talk._

"I don't know what you're talking about," Emily repeats without as much as a blink. "I slipped and hit my head."

"You've got a concussion, a split lip, and two broken ribs and you're telling me that happened because you slipped and hit your head?"

"Yes," Emily answers, holding his gaze steady from across the room. "It's what happened."

She watches him shake his head dubiously.

"No matter what you might think you said or did to deserve this, nothing justifies-"

"I told you, I slipped. I don't know what else you want me to say."

She knows he doesn't believe a single word she's telling him, but she couldn't have cared less. What was she supposed to say? That it wasn't as bad as it looked? That it didn't even hurt? At least not in the way he thought it did?

He wouldn't understand that either.

 _How could he._

"Emily-"

The way he says her name makes tears spring to her eyes.

 _I don't need your pity._

"I think you should go."

"Emily-"

 _Just get the fuck out._

"Please."

At first it seems like he wants to say something, but then he doesn't, and with one last look in her direction he leaves the room.

The moment the door falls shut behind him, Emily starts to cry.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	8. Like We Could Have Handled It

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

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 **VIII**

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 **-Like We Could Have Handled It-**

 _(The Color In Anything/Campus Kiss)_

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Emily's on her way back to her dorm room when Aaron shows up out of nowhere, stepping forward from behind a tree and blocking her path.

"Hey," he says with a smile, his dark eyes finding hers. He's wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt instead of a suit, looking so casual, Emily thinks that if he hadn't stepped right into her path she wouldn't have noticed him.

She hasn't seen him in weeks. Not since she went back to Yale straight from the hospital. She hasn't been at home since then either. Unsure of what to say, Emily pulls her books closer against her chest.

"Can we sit down for a moment?" Aaron wants to know, and even though she knows that she shouldn't, she follows over to a bench anyway.

"You're still mad at me," he asks when she sits down next to him. "Aren't you?"

Emily shakes her head. "I'm not mad at you. I never was."

"I didn't want to hurt you," he explains. "I just wanted to do my-"

"You just wanted to do your job, I know, Aaron." She takes a deep breath, enjoying the fresh October air burning her lungs. Glad that summer is finally over. It just isn't her season.

"I got promoted," he states suddenly, and Emily feels a smile curl at the corners of her mouth.

"You did?" She turns her head to look at him, her dark eyes meeting his. "I knew you would. You deserve it."

He smiles back at her and Emily wishes he'd kiss her instead. Wishes he'd just pull her into his arms. Wishes he'd just-

"Why are you here?" she asks, forcing herself to look away.

"I don't know," he admits, and Emily wonders if he's being honest. Wonders even more why she can't tell.

"If you're here to get me to tell you what happened I have to disappoint you," she starts, her eyes fixed on the tree in front of her, watching a lonely leaf tumble to the ground. "I'm not going to say what you want me to."

"You don't have to tell me what I already know, Emily. I saw him leave. It's the reason I was already on my way to the kitchen when Sarah started screaming for help."

Emily shuts her eyes in defeat, wishing she wasn't able to remember. Wishing he couldn't either. Hating the fact that Aaron had seen her like that.

"What happened to Peter?" she asks. Not sure if she really wants to know.

"He changed units."

"Did you make him?"

Aaron stays quiet, but it's answer enough anyway. Emily just shakes her head. Hating how guilty she still feels about it.

"I talked to his wife."

"You did what?" Emily turns abruptly, her eyes flashing open. "Have you lost-"

"When she opened the door for me," Aaron cuts her off, his hand coming close around hers. "She looked just like you did. I didn't even have to tell her all that much; she was gone before he came home that night. I think it was what she needed to hear to be able to leave."

"Why are you telling me this?" Emily asks, fully aware that he's still holding her hand.

"I thought you should know," he says, unblinking, still looking at her. His eyes mirroring hers.

"That's not why I came here, though," he adds softly, and then before Emily even has the time to understand what he's doing, Aaron cups the back of her head and pulls her close to kiss her.

It's not an earth-shattering kiss, _no,_ but breathtaking all the same. It's sweet and soft, gentle, _all careful and slow_. Almost as if he's afraid to break her.

She feels his fingers curl into her hair, as he moves closer towards her on the bench, and it makes her feel safe and cherished and all she wants in this moment is for him to never ever let her go.

It's over a heartbeat later, when her books slip between her fingers, hitting the ground with a thud.

Emily pulls back first, her trembling fingers ghosting over her lips for just a second too long. "You shouldn't have come," she breathes, and shakes her head at herself before bending down to gather her books.

"Emily-" Aaron starts, trying to stop her, and she wishes he wouldn't say her name the way he does because it makes her long for things she shouldn't long for.

"You have a wife," she says, loud enough for everyone around them to hear and _they do_ , students turning their heads towards them. _Hungry for a scandal._

"Go home, Aaron," she adds, quieter this time, before getting up from the bench and walking off in the other direction.

She doesn't look back at him once.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	9. How To Believe In Futures

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

 **Warning: light smut (mostly between the lines, nothing graphic, not really), dark &twisty, all similarities to "Playing With Fire" are done on purpose**

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 **IX**

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 **-How To Believe In Futures-**

 _(The Color In Anything/Goodbye)_

.

.

Dressed in nothing more than a white button-down with her bare legs dangling over the edge, Emily's sitting on the kitchen island in her mother's empty house. Her long hair is falling into her face, perfectly undone, and still a little wet from the shower.

She's not drunk, but she isn't sober either. Her pupils just the slightest bit dilated.

There's also a reason why she's sitting here, on a Monday morning, looking like she just woke up, when in truth she never went to bed to begin with.

She's waiting, waiting for _him._

It's their last day together, even though she hasn't told him that yet. She won't tell him now either, in fact she won't tell him at all.

Tomorrow she'd be gone, tomorrow she'd be someone else, living a whole different life.

But today she's still Emily, one last time, only for him.

With a smile playing on her lips she listens to his car pull up the driveway, followed by the sounds of the front door opening. His footstep coming closer, the sure stride unmistakably his, until she hears his voice from right behind her.

"Feels a lot like déjà vu."

Biting her lip playfully, she meets his gaze in the kitchen window and allows the fabric of her button-down to ride up, _just a little bit further_ , and spreads her legs, _just a little bit more._

"You shouldn't be doing this," he murmurs quietly, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

"Probably not," she admits, absently licking her lips. "But it's so much fun, isn't it?"

What happens next is totally expected, _intense_ , and exactly what they both planned.

He's across the room in two strides, pulling her roughly against his chest with his arm around her waist and his hand at the back of her head. There's a quick pause, his eyes locked with hers, _dark eyes aflame_ , before he starts kissing her. It's _rough_ and _fast_ , just how they both like it the most.

And cliché or not, _even after all those years_ , it's a kiss that makes her world stop turning.

She pulls him closer and closer with her legs around his hips, greedy and in not state to wait a second longer, her hands already unzipping his pants, just like she'd done that very first time six years ago.

He doesn't hesitate, _he never has_ _,_ and why would he? Their bodies become one and with his face buried in her neck and his teeth grazing her skin, _always just almost drawing blood_ _,_ he has her already dangerously close to the edge.

It's too much and yet it's not enough, _it never is, it never was, it never will_ , and she can't help but let out a strangled sob, a desperate plea for more. There's no need to be quiet, no need to stifle her moans, _her mother's house empty except for the two of them,_ and when he pushes her over the edge for the first time, _hard_ and _fast_ _,_ there's no reason to stop from screaming her release.

He barely waits for her to take a breath, _she's the one who told him not to ever_ _,_ before he keeps going, his hands in her hair, tugging at the strands until it hurts in just the _right_ way.

There's no need to ask, _not anymore_ , no need to wait or to hold back. The rules had been set years ago.

He makes her come for a second time, the intensity of her _orgasm_ almost tearing her apart and it's how it's always been, their bodies moving in perfect sync. That's how they always worked best.

He's pushing her higher and higher right to the point where it starts to hurt, the only way she ever known how to feel alive. His body stills, denying them what they're both longing for most, while he pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, _prolonging the inevitable_ , his dark eyes finding hers once more. Her own reflection all that's reflected in his.

There's no need for words. There's never been.

With one last movement he sends her over the edge one last time, _before he follows suit,_ his whole body shuddering when he finally allows himself to _come_ _,_ and for one single heartbeat there is no sound as the sunlight streaming through the windows bathes them in a warm, eerie glow.

 **.**

"I think we should do this more often," he chuckles softly against her ear, still trying to catch his breath.

"We most definitely should," Emily agrees, pulling him close against her, even though it doesn't feel as comfortable as it did moments ago.

It's over. And she's just about to break his heart.

 _But it'll heal._

 _Haley will help him with that._

With her head on his shoulder and her fingers buried in his thick hair, Emily's looking out the kitchen window, his future playing out in _perfect clarity_ right in front of her eyes.

A nice two story home in some sweet suburban neighborhood, a mini van, two kids and a dog - _a picture perfect life_. It was what he wanted, what _they_ wanted, Haley and him.

Emily never wanted to have any of that. Not even with _him._ She needed more. _She needed something entirely else._ She'd always known. And maybe, maybe a part of him had known that too. At least that's what she hopes for.

They would live _happily ever after_ , Haley and Aaron, and Emily would be nothing more than a faint memory on a warm summer night. In a few years she might not even be that anymore.

Tomorrow she would be in another country, somewhere across the world and becoming whomever they told her to. She would do what she's practiced all her life, giving up everything it would take to get the job done.

She wasn't scared to leave, wasn't scared to give up what she had, not even the tiniest bit. She wasn't scared to put herself in harms way and she definitely wasn't scared to die. She would do whatever it took. It was what she signed up for even before she finished college and she couldn't wait to get started.

 _Finally coming alive._

"You alright?" Aaron asks, his voice bringing her back to the here and now, back to _him_ _._

She pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting his. "I've never been better," she breathes softly, her lips finding his one last time.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	10. Let Us Make A Deal

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

* * *

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 **X**

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 **-Let Us Make A Deal-**

 _(The Color In Anything/Haley & Emily talk)_

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 **.**

Haley shows up at her dorm room one Thursday morning in the middle of May.

"You're not what I expected," the blonde states, obviously surprised, and Emily steps back to let her in, because what else is she supposed to do?

She keeps standing next to the closed door, while Aaron's wife looks through her room, the way she wrinkles her nose a sign that she noticed the heavy scent of weed and patchouli right away.

"What did you expect to find here?" Emily asks, suddenly feeling like a petulant child instead of a nineteen year old.

"I don't know," Haley starts, slowly turning around to face her. "Someone older maybe. Someone dressed a little bit more..."

"Like you?" Emily offers flippantly.

"I guess." Haley admits, while scrutinizing Emily closely. "I definitely wasn't expecting to find _this_."

There's a flicker of amusement in Haley's eyes and Emily wishes she'd chosen a different outfit today. Her black skirt suddenly feels too short, her white blouse too tight, the studded belt and her fishnet stockings far too provocative and the violet streaks in her otherwise pitch black hair just a bad idea in general.

"Are you even old enough to drink?" Haley asks abruptly, a frown growing on her face, and it takes Emily a moment to realize that Haley must have spotted her hidden stash.

She doesn't bother with an answer though.

"Does Aaron know you're here?"

Haley shakes her head. "No, and I'd like to keep it that way."

 _Of course._

 _That's how you get a marriage to work._

Emily leans back against the wall, her arms crossed in front of her chest defensively, wondering why she felt like talking to her mother.

"Are you in love with him?"

The question comes not unexpectedly.

"No, I'm not," Emily answers, unblinking. "And he isn't in love with me either," she adds, holding Haley's gaze steadily.

"But it's also not just about sex, is it?"

"No."

Haley nods thoughtfully before finally looking away.

"I've known for a while now," she declares quietly, her eyes wandering over the things littering the black painted room. "He's changed since you two..." Haley stops, obviously searching for the right word, but coming away empty. "And I can't deny that I like the way he changed."

Emily frowns, not sure she heard the other woman right.

"He's never been more attentive then he is now," Haley explains, and Emily can hear the smile in her voice. "When he's home now, he really is home. He's not all that serious anymore, he's back to making me laugh and he even wants to go out for dinner after work. It's almost like high school all over again."

When Haley turns back around there's hope in her eyes.

"Whatever you did to him I have to thank you for it."

"I'm not here to tell you to stop sleeping with him, Emily," she continues after a brief pause. "Because whether I'd like to admit it or not, our marriage is working much better since you came around."

"Then why are you here?" Emily asks, and tries her best to hide her confusion. If Haley doesn't want her to stay away then what did she want?

"It looks like we complement what Aaron wants and needs perfectly. And if we agree on what's yours and what's mine, we might be able to keep this working for all three of us."

At first Emily's almost sure she got something wrong, did Aaron's wife just tell her to keep…?

The seriousness on Haley's face makes clear that she had.

"I have to admit you're not what I expected either," Emily states, unable to hide a smirk.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	11. Two Steps From Hell

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

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 **XI**

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 **Two Steps From Hell**

 _(The Color In Anything/Second Time)_

 **.**

 **.**

He's on his way home late one night in the middle of November, when he finds her waiting next to his car in the FBI parking lot. He hasn't seen her in weeks, not since she told him to go home when he visited her at Yale.

She's leaning with her back against the driver's side of his car, wearing a tight black coat over a pair of fishnet stockings, and if he had to guess, little else beneath.

"How did you get in here?" he asks, only partly surprised by her sudden appearance. There probably wasn't anything she couldn't do.

"They got a serious security problem at the gate," Emily answers nonchalantly, a smile on her lips that makes it hard to concentrate. She's wearing lipstick today, a dark red that makes his imagination run wild whether he likes it or not.

"You should tell them," she adds, her teeth slightly grazing her lower lip as if she just read his mind. "This could get really dangerous."

 _I think it already has._

Clearing his throat and forcing himself to tear his gaze away from her, Aaron takes an involuntary step back. "What are you doing here, Emily?"

She was the one who told him to leave, after all.

"I missed you."

It's the seriousness in her voice that makes him turn his head again. There's a longing in her eyes Aaron wishes he didn't understand. A burning need he knows just how to satisfy. The thought alone is enough to make his pants grow tight.

He swallows, not sure what to tell her. Guilt already heavy on his shoulders.

"Emily-" he starts and stops. There's just nothing to say. Nothing that wouldn't be a lie.

"Tell me to leave," she says, her voice barely audible. "Tell me to go home and I will."

 _I can't._

 _I wish I could, but-_

He closes the gap between them in two strides and with his hand on the back of her head he pulls her into a heavy kiss.

 **.**

Hours later, his head resting on a pillow, Aaron watches Emily from his place on her bed.

She's sitting at the window of her dorm room, wearing nothing more than his white button-down, smoking a cigarette.

 _Freshly fucked_ _,_ that's what she called her look mere moments ago when she slipped out from under the bed sheets, and Aaron couldn't have agreed more with that.

With her long, silk hair perfectly undone, her cheeks flushed and that unmistakable glow in her dark eyes she looked beautiful.

"What are you thinking?" she asks, her eyes curiously searching his from across the black painted room. An almost innocent smile playing on her lips.

 _You wouldn't believe me even if I told you._

He says nothing, keeps watching her instead. Wishing things would be different. Wishing the wedding band on his finger didn't mean anything to him.

But it did.

 _It always will._

By the time she makes her way back to bed, guilt has already taken a hold of him. But with her body so close and her bare skin against his, it's hard to remember what's right and what's wrong.

"Stop thinking," she whispers against his lips, before straddling him in one skillful move and making him forget all over again.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	12. All Those Countless Nights

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

 **Warning: (light) smut, mostly between the lines, nothing graphic (not really)**

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 **XII**

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 **-All Those Countless Nights-**

 _(The Color In Anything/Nights)_

.

.

Emily lays awake long after Aaron has gone home.

Her naked body wrapped up in his button-down, _the one he told her to just leave on_ _,_ something about her looking much better in it and him having a spare one in his car anyway. The scent of his after-shave that's still lingering in the soft fabric is enough to make her long for more. To keep wishing he were still there, his naked body tangled between the sheets, his hands exploring every inch of her skin.

She can't stop from rubbing her thighs together, getting more and more frustrated, before finally giving in to her burning need and slipping a hand between her legs, even when she knows it's not the same.

A few skillful movements are all it takes for her to fall over the edge, but the release isn't quite the same. It's just not enough.

.

He comes over a third time and a fourth and fifth and then Emily stops counting because it becomes clear there'll always be another one anyway.

It's wrong and they know it, it's hidden in every movement, in every touch. In every kiss. The guilt they share, always with them in her black painted room. But it's impossible to stop.

It doesn't mean anything, Emily reminds herself. It never will. _It can't._

But then Aaron comes back, his lips pressed against hers the moment the door is safely locked, and she's not so sure anymore.

What they have is different. It's that kind of intimacy that's impossible to explain. It's not just sex, but it isn't love either.

It's something in between and something else entirely.

.

The first time Aaron wants to go down on her, she stops him. With her fingers buried in his thick, dark hair Emily pulls him right back up, unable to stop her legs from shaking, a telltale sign that she's scared. And she is scared, _bloody scared_ , but she doesn't think about telling him that.

Aaron looks confused, and then worried, and Emily presses her lips against his to keep him from thinking about it any further. There's no need for him to know.

She's the one on her knees later, not because he asks her to, _no_ , but because she wants to. Because it's something she knows how to do, something that leaves her in control for the entire time.

Aaron tries again, some nights later, and this time there's no brushing it off as _nothing_ , the fear in her eyes all too visible when she shakes her head a silent _no._

He doesn't ask and Emily doesn't try to explain, afraid he won't be able to understand her anyway. And he won't _._ _How could he?_

There's a third time, months later, and the last thing Emily wants is for Aaron to stop. Instead, she pulls him even closer between her legs, _begging him for more_ , his soft chuckle almost enough to make her come just then.

He has her toppling over the edge with ease, sending her higher than ever before, and Emily has to bite her lip to keep from screaming out loud.

When she finally comes down from her high, _blissfully satisfied_ , she's barely able to keep her eyes open.

"Sleep, sweetheart," Aaron tells her quietly, his hand curled tight around hers, and while Emily drifts off to sleep she can't stop thinking that she will never feel as good as this.

.

There's a part of Emily that wonders if Aaron might be her perfect match.

A part of her that wonders if he might have ruined her for any other man. A part of her that wonders if this, _as_ _fucked_ _up as it is,_ might be love.

.

It will take her years to understand that it is.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	13. And Then There Was You

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

 **Warning: (light) smut, nothing graphic, mostly between the lines, Emily &Aaron, Lauren&Ian, Emily&Clyde**

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 **XIII**

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 **-And Then There Was You-**

 _(The Color In Anything/Italy)_

 **.**

 **.**

He shows up out of nowhere.

 _In Italy of all places._

Suddenly he's just there, standing right in front of her when she walks out of a fancy boutique.

"Emily."

A name she hasn't heard in over a year, not since she left London to become Lauren Reynolds. A name she hasn't missed until now.

She shouldn't look up, it's against everything she's learned, everything she knows. It could ruin her assignment, could ruin her career. It could be her end.

But then she looks up anyway, her dark eyes finding his, and for one single moment everything stops.

He doesn't look much different, the same handsome face, even though the lines have become deeper. And she wonders what he sees, wonders how he even recognized her. He shouldn't have been able to. She looks nothing like _Emily._

"Emily," he starts again, taking one step towards her, and it takes all her self-control not to flinch.

"I'm sorry," she says, a smile on her lips that belongs to Lauren, not _Emily_. "You must have mistaken me for someone else."

He stops and frowns, concern growing on his features, and Emily knows she needs to leave. Ian is waiting for her in a restaurant down the street and if she doesn't show up on time, he'll have Liam searching for her.

"Emily," Aaron states once more, his voice firm and sure this time, and she knows it's over. _He knows._

"No, I'm sorry," she says, shaking her head. "My name isn't Emily."

He's about to say something else when a familiar voice cuts him off.

"Look at this, Aaron. It's so adorable. We have to get this for the baby."

It's then that Emily spots Haley in the store next door, looking through a stack of baby clothes, a small bump under her shirt leaving no doubt as to why.

Aaron turns his head too and it's all Emily needs to disappear. She steps back into the store, moving fast, slipping between clothing racks on her way to the back exit. The moment she steps out into the alley, she's already running.

By the time she reaches the restaurant, she's flushed, her whole body trembling, and Ian suspicious the moment she sits down across from him.

"What is going on, Lauren?" he asks, his hand firmly around her wrist, holding on too tight, pulling her closer towards him. "What happened?"

She knows she has to act fast, Ian Doyle not known for his patience. And so she bites her lip playfully, before she takes his free hand from under the table.

His blue eyes burn with lust when she whispers that she _needs_ him, and there's a smug smile curling on his lips when she moves his hand under her skirt to prove _how much._

But when he _fucks_ her in a bathroom stall not even two minutes later, all she can think about is him. _Aaron._

.

"I want out," is what she tells Clyde three days later, sitting down on a bench in the park, her eyes fixed on the blonde boy on the playground.

"What's the rush, darling," Clyde chuckles, and the way he says it makes her think he knows more than he lets on.

"Do something," she states, casually pushing a strand of her hair out of her face, her lips barely moving. "And do it quick."

.

"You call this quick?" she glares twelve months later when he settles down across from her on the Interpol jet.

He chuckles, but there's no humor in it, and Emily knows this is the end.

"You should have told me you got caught, darling. You risked your whole team when you didn't."

She doesn't even try to lie; it's useless anyway.

"What happened?" she asks instead, her eyes searching the dark night sky outside the small window.

"He's looking for you. Asking far too many questions for his own good. He's _bloody_ persistent, I have to say."

Emily bites her lip, swallows. "They want me gone."

"Yes."

"I'm better than any of you, did you tell them that?"

"Of course you are, that's why they're poised to make you one last offer. If you want to stay, and I really hope you do, we have to take drastic measures to end this."

Emily turns, her eyes meeting Clyde's for the first time that night. "They want me dead."

Clyde chuckles, his blue eyes filled with amusement. "Not you, darling. Just _Emily_. If you want to stay, she has to die."

.

A week later she walks into Clyde's office, locking the door behind her before closing the blinds.

He watches her in silence, his gaze never breaking away while she settles down on his desk, right in front of him.

"I don't want to die," she breathes, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer and in between her legs, her lips ready to meet his. "I want to go home."

He nods, his hands already under her skirt, resting on the inside of her tights. Not nearly close enough to where she wants them.

"I know," he states, leaning in closer, his lips nearly touching hers. "You want me to make sure you can join his team. Am I right?"

"So what do you say," Emily murmurs softly, her fingers reaching to unbuckle his belt. "Are you going to help me?"

He chuckles, his hands closing around hers to make her stop. "You're unbelievable, you know, darling?"

Emily stills, smirks. "I get that quite often."

She watches when he reaches for her face, his hand brushing against her cheek far too gently. "I already arranged something," he states, making her blink in surprise. "But I'm not sure he's going to like it very much. One of his team went off the rails, it's gotten him in a lot of trouble and they want someone to take a look at the mess from the inside."

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"I would never do such childish things," Clyde says, the smug smile on his face making clear that of course he had.

Holding back a retort she might regret, Emily bends closer, her lips finally meeting his.

"Let's make this goodbye, then."

.

"He has a son, Emily," Clyde tells her later, when she's straightening her clothes, her hand on the door, ready to walk out of his office and out of his life. "Things might have changed."

There's a slight pain in her chest Emily hadn't expected to feel. But of course Clyde notices.

"If you change your mind, just give me a call," he says, his gaze lingering a little too long, and she thinks that after all, she's really going to miss this.

"Why are you so sure that I will?" she asks quietly, not sure if she wants to hear the answer.

"Because you won't find what you're looking for," Clyde states, crossing the room until he's standing right in front of her. "Wasn't that the reason you left DC in the first place?"

"Things have changed. I have," she says, and it sounds almost like a question.

"That's true, you've changed. I'm just not sure you realize how much you've really changed, darling."

It's there in his eyes, the knowledge of everything she's done since she left DC. Of every lie she told, every trigger she pulled, every death she caused. Every job she finished.

It's going to stay here. With him. It has to.

But there's nothing to undo the darkness she's seen, nothing to undo the darkness she caused and the horrible realization that she loved every _fucking_ second of it.

.

"Farewell, darling," Clyde mutters his final goodbye, when he bends to kiss her one last time and Emily doesn't dare to utter a sound, afraid he'll hear the hesitation in her voice when she does.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	14. Back To The Start

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

 **Warning: (light) smut, nothing graphic, more between the lines**

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 **XIV**

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 **-Back To The Start-**

 _(The Color In Anything/November 2006)_

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"Aaron Hotchner?" she asks, a dazzling smile on her lips and a cardboard box in her hands. "I'm Agent Emily Prentiss."

 _It's a game._

A game they played before.

He blinks once, his hand reaching for hers from across his desk, and that's all it takes to set her on fire.

"I'm supposed to start here today at the BAU," she says, all innocent and almost shy, an act she perfected over the years to the point of convincing herself.

"There's been a mistake," Aaron states, all serious and stoic, an unreadable expression on his face and she thinks no one will ever know that they've met before.

"I don't think so, sir," Emily says, emphasizing the word sir and enjoying the obvious reaction it elicits in his nether regions far too much.

He swallows hard, turning his gaze away abruptly.

"There's definitely been a mistake. Excuse me."

He gives her one last look and then he's gone, out of his office and back to his colleagues, and Emily has to bite her lip to hold back a chuckle.

She didn't expect any differently.

Not from him.

.

"Please tell me you haven't been here for the last four days?" he begs with a worried look, when he walks into his office late at night to find her seated on the couch.

"I heard you were flying back tonight," she states, calm and composed, picture-perfect Emily, allowing her skirt to ride up just a little bit more.

"Heard? How could you have heard a thing like that?" he mutters, and Emily licks her lips, not in the mood to play this stupid game any longer.

 _Just fuck me already._

"I belong in this unit," she tells him later, knows she would have convinced him even if he hadn't already known what she was capable of. "And all I'm asking you for is the chance to show you that."

There's a smile curling at the corners of his mouth and Emily bites her lip in anticipation.

 _Touch me._

"I still need to look into this," he murmurs, already moving closer. "I'm not promising anything."

Emily smiles, her gaze never breaking away. "You won't be sorry."

 _Just touch me._

For about ten seconds neither of them moves, and then everything happens at once.

He pushes the door shut with his hand while Emily switches off the light, neither one of them bothering with the blinds. It's dark enough, isn't it?

 _Who the fuck cares?_

Emily already knows that later he'll wonder if he's lost his mind. But that will be later and it's exactly what she's always done to him anyway.

Aaron lifts her up onto his desk with ease, his grip on her hips tighter than she remembers. More forceful, _firm._ Sure. He sends his belongings to the floor with one swift move and he doesn't even flinch when they shatter to pieces on the ground.

What she finds in his eyes isn't the same anymore. There's a certain darkness that wasn't there before, something that comes with the job, a darkness that in the right light Emily thinks, might almost match the one in hers.

She doesn't have the time to take a single breath before his hands are under her skirt, ripping her panties off in one go. It's what she's been fantasizing about for years, alone in her bed, but in her imagination it had never been as exhilarating as this. And even through a million things might have changed, they still understand what the other needs best.

They're falling over the edge together, only a heartbeat later, his lips pressed against hers so tightly it _bloody_ hurts, but not nearly enough to keep her quiet.

"Don't you dare leave me ever again," he tells her, _still inside of her,_ not a request but a _fucking_ order, and it's almost enough to send her over the edge a second time.

"I wouldn't dare," she murmurs, her bruised lips crashing hard against his.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	15. Lie For Me One Last Time

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

 **WARNING: might be trigger-ish, nothing graphic, mostly between the lines, DARK**

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 **XV**

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 **-Lie For Me One Last Time-**

 _(The Color In Anything/ October 2008)_

.

.

"I don't think I can do this, Emily."

It's the first thing Aaron's said to her since they left Colorado.

The flight to DC had been awfully quiet, the drive back to her apartment even worse. Now he's standing in the middle of her living room, all tense and worried, watching her every move.

"I know," she says, her eyes finally meeting his in the reflection of the windowpane. His silence had already told her as much.

She hasn't dared to ask how he knew, she probably never would. Not that it mattered anyway. He knew and that was terrible enough. It would change everything between them.

 _It already has._

"But you've done it before," she adds quietly, forcing herself to hold his gaze.

He looks genuinely confused and Emily turns, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. If she wanted to win this she had to change tactics.

"What if I'd shot someone in an empty parking lot in cold blood?" she asks, making sure not to miss a beat. "Or if I _fucked_ up a case while in withdrawal? Would you keep it out of your report then?"

His expression is answer enough.

"Emily-" he starts, and she just waves him off.

"This isn't about what happened," she states, her voice calm but firm. "It's because it happened to _me_."

He neither admits nor denies it. He just keeps looking at her with the same pained expression from before and Emily wishes she could tell him to stop. But she knows that if she does it'll only give away how much it hurts her.

 _It'll only prove him right._

"I don't know what you think this is going to change, but let me tell you it isn't going to change anything for the better. It's not going to help anyone, Aaron."

She's fighting a losing battle; she can see it in his eyes, knows he's already made up his mind.

 _He's going to destroy everything._

"Pretending that it never happened won't help either," he tells her softly, but it sounds more like a plea. "You need to talk to someone, Emily."

"Then I'll make an appointment somewhere."

"So you can lie to that therapist too? Just like you lied back in the hospital in Colorado?"

She's not sure who's more surprised by his retort. Him or her. By the look on his face it's probably him.

"I remember a time you didn't have a problem with me lying," she notes, anger slowly taking over. "In fact, I think you enjoyed it very much."

She's got no right to lash out at him, Emily knows. He only means well, but she can't help it and it might be her only chance to turn this around.

"I'm sorry, Emily, I didn't-"

He takes a few steps towards her before he stops halfway, and all it takes is one look into his eyes for her to know that it won't ever be the same again.

"I can't lie for you, Emily. Not this time." It sounds like an apology and it is. He's going to decide for her. He already has. Sure it's the right thing to do.

 _He's wrong._

"Well," Emily starts and swallows, before bending to the floor to search her go-bag. "Then you might as well take my badge and my gun before you leave."

"What?" The frustration is evident in his voice, but instead of answering him, she just shoves her things against his chest, trying not to flinch when her hand brushes against his by accident. She doesn't look at his face either, knowing full well what it would do to her, as she makes her way past him and into the kitchen.

 _I need a drink._

 _Or maybe two._

"Let me get this straight, you'd rather quit than..." His voice trails off as he follows her slowly and Emily stays silent, reaching for the half empty bottle of bourbon in her kitchen cabinet.

She knows she's being manipulative, knows she's acting too defensive, knows that's she's giving him what he expected. But she needs him to keep this to himself no matter what.

She's not fine. _Of course she isn't._ How could she be? But she would deal with it like she's dealt with everything else. She would survive this just like she survived before. It wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to her, but now probably wasn't the time to point that out to him. She's told a million lies already, and he believed a million more; what mattered yet another one?

"Stop doing that, Emily," Aaron tells her quietly from where he's standing in the open door. "We're not in an interrogation. I'm not a suspect you need to manipulate."

"I don't-" she starts and stops, the words getting stuck in her throat when she turns. The pain in his eyes almost too much to bear.

"You've been doing it since we met, Emily. Don't you think I know that? And yes, most of the time I let you get away with it because most of the time you're right. But this time I…" He shakes his head, briefly closing his eyes, and suddenly all she wants is for him to leave.

This is going to take a turn for the worst.

She can already feel it.

"You have no idea what you're even talking about, Aaron."

"Why don't you tell me then? I'm right here!"

 _Maybe that's the problem._

"Stop looking at me like that!" she finally snaps, her voice loud enough for her neighbors to hear. "I'm not going to fall apart! I'm not a victim, Aaron!"

"But you are Emily! You are a victim!"

He regrets it the second he says it, she can see it in his eyes, but it's too late to take it back. At first there's nothing, only the painful truth and the realization that there is no coming back from this.

 _It's over._

"Get out."

She sounds calm, even when she's anything but. Her grip tightening around the bottle in her hand; she's glad he already took her gun.

"Get the _fuck_ out of my apartment."

For the first time in sixteen years Aaron doesn't try to change her mind.

With her hand curled into a fist, Emily doesn't dare breathe until she hears his footsteps disappear. The moment the front door falls shut behind him she gives up fighting too.

With an angry cry she throws the bottle, watching in silence as it hits the wall and breaks and shatters into a thousand pieces right in front of her.

 _Everything gone straight to hell in the blink of an eye._

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	16. Meet Me Halfway At Least

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

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 **XVI**

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 **-Meet Me Halfway At Least-**

 _(The Color In Anything/Las Vegas, November 2008)_

.

.

With his hand tightening around his drink, Aaron watches Emily from afar.

She's sitting at the bar in a skimpy little black dress, next to a blonde man in a dark tailored business suit, and it's only a matter of time until they leave together. Emily already has him wrapped around her finger, not that Aaron could blame him, but even from the other end of the dimly lit room it's clear, at least to Aaron, that she's drunk.

Her movements are unsteady, her smile forced, the reason she keeps flirting just a means to an end.

 _To prove him wrong._

The moment Aaron spots the other man slip his hand under Emily's dress he has had enough. He gets up, leaving his glass on the table, and makes his way over.

"It's time for you to leave," Aaron states, calm but firm, making sure the guy sees his badge.

He pulls his hand back a lot faster than Aaron thought he would. Muttering something unintelligible under his breath, he puts some money on the counter, backing off without any questions asked.

"What the _fuck_ did you do that for?" Emily glares, almost losing her balance when she turns around to face him.

"You're going to thank me for that," Aaron murmurs, knows it's true, no matter what she's going to say next.

"I really doubt that."

"Are you going to tell me what you're doing?"

"I was having fun. You should try it sometime."

"I think you've had enough fun for one night," Aaron states, ignoring her snappy retort on purpose. "You're going to regret that," he adds with a sideways look at her glass, trying to resist the urge to just take it away from her.

"Probably," Emily answers, and it's obvious how much effort it costs her not to slur her words. "But I'll just worry about that tomorrow."

"Besides," she adds after a moment, a frown growing on her face. "If I have to listen to JJ going on about _the_ _wonder of life_ one more time, I swear to God I'm going to strangle her."

"Why don't you take my room then?"

Emily rolls her eyes. "If we share a room we'll never hear the end of it."

"Let's just worry about that tomorrow."

There's the faintest hint of a smile, her eyes glittering in the light when she looks at him. "You're going to regret that," she states.

 _No, I don't think so._

"Come on, let's go," he says, motioning for her to get up. When she slips down from her barstool, she's swaying dangerously on her feet and Aaron can't help but think that he probably underestimated how drunk she really is.

He reaches forward to steady her out of habit, but stops himself at the very last second, not sure if she even wants him to touch her. He watches in silence while she steadies herself with her hand on the counter, her face just a little paler than usual.

"I'm fine," she tells him quietly, but it doesn't take a profiler to know that she's not. _And not only because she's drunk._

He pays for her drinks, only partly surprised that she lets him. He walks close to her on their way out of the bar and through the lobby to the elevator. His hand always hovering at the small of her back, _always just nearly touching,_ just in case she might trip.

While they wait for the elevator he watches her more closely, noticing not for the first time that day that her pupils were slightly constricted. He hadn't been the only one to notice either. He'd seen the worried glances Reid had thrown in her direction earlier. He had to talk to her about it, but for now he just hoped there was some reasonable explanation.

Aside from work, she hadn't talked to him since Colorado. And she wasn't only avoiding him, but Reid as well. She hadn't answered any of his calls if they weren't work related and whenever he showed up at her door, she wouldn't open.

But no matter how obvious the change in Emily's behavior was to himself, until now, his team except for Reid, hadn't noticed a difference.

 _Of course not. It's Emily._

Everything had changed, even when it hadn't.

 _"Aaron,"_ Emily mutters suddenly, and he notices the alarm in her voice right away. He steps forward just in time to keep her from falling over. With her eyes closed shut, she rests her head against his chest, holding onto his suit jacket and mumbling something he can't make sense of. With his arm slung around her waist he keeps her close against his side, and they reach his floor without any more incidents.

He's about to search his jacket for his key card, when out of the corner of his eye he finds Dave watching them. His brows raised questioningly.

"Don't ask," Aaron mouths quietly, trying his best to keep Emily standing while opening the door to his room.

"She's going to be in a really bad mood tomorrow," Dave muses, curious but also slightly amused, before stepping forward to help.

Aaron says nothing, already helping Emily inside, not sure how to explain this and the fact that the way Emily is leaning against his side is far too intimate. In the end he has to explain nothing, because Dave has left them alone.

With Dave gone and the door locked, Aaron half walks, half carries Emily over to the bed, helps her lie down first, making sure she's not lying on her back, before fetching the wastebin from the bathroom just in case. He's known her long enough to know that, _usually_ _,_ she can hold her liquor just fine, but even Emily has her limits.

Sitting down next to her, Aaron has to resist the urge to reach for her hand, and for not the first time he wishes that he handled what had happened in Colorado differently.

 _I only made things worse._

He should have known better. It was just the way she was. And what had him falling for her the moment they met.

He's lost in his own thoughts when she stirs in her drunken stupor, blinking once, twice, before slowly opening her eyes.

"I thought I heard Rossi," she mumbles drunkenly, searching the room, and it takes Aaron a moment to understand what she's saying and another to understand what she's referring to.

"He helped with the door," he explains, holding back a chuckle when he catches her expression.

"Tomorrow is going to be a really long day," she slurs, trying to sit up, but failing halfway and sinking back down onto the pillow instead.

"Actually I don't think you're going to remember any of it."

"But Rossi will," Emily mutters and swallows, and then she gets quiet once more.

"I used to be the one in control," she adds some time later, her hand reaching for him, blindly clutching at his jacket, tired and frustrated and _utterly wasted_.

"You're just drunk, Emily. You need to sleep. Let's talk about this in the morning."

But deep down he knows there'll be no talking about this. She would just pretend it never happened in the first place. If she even remembered any of it to begin with.

"You've changed me," she murmurs, trying to talk without slurring her words. "You've changed me and everything else," she adds, her hand still clutched tightly to the fabric of his suit jacket, her eyes fluttering shut. "Sometimes I wish I could be how you want me to be...," her voice trails off, and for a moment Aaron's sure she's fallen asleep again.

He's about to get up to go and search for a spare blanket, when she reaches for him once more. Her fingers curled around his wrist, her dark eyes flashing open, searching his. She's not saying it out loud, even drunk too reserved and self-possessed for her own good, but he knows anyway.

He lies down next to her, close, _but not too close_ _,_ only their hands touching.

"I'm sorry for... " she murmurs quietly, obviously searching for the right words, but coming away empty. "...for being _Emily,_ " she finishes, her words barely audible anymore.

"Don't be," Aaron tells her, his hand squeezing hers gently. "After all, that's exactly why I love you."

.

It's not until later that he realizes that was the first time he ever told her that.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	17. You Got My Heart, But I Got Your Soul

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

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 **XVII**

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 **You Got My Heart, But I Got Your Soul**

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 _(The Color In Anything/Proving A Point)_

.

.

"You're not coming to David's Valentine's party with me? Are you _fucking_ kidding me?"

Emily doesn't have to look up to know that Sarah is throwing daggers at her from across their cafeteria table.

Pushing her food absently around her plate, Emily gives a slight shrug. "I'm not in the mood."

"You never are anymore," Sarah states, not just angry but disappointed now. "What the hell is wrong with you, Em? And don't give me that I'm fine speech."

"It's nothing," Emily states, her gaze still fixed on her untouched food. "I'm just tired."

"Oh, for the love of God," Sarah snaps, before reaching for Emily's plate and pushing it out of sight with much more force than necessary. "Just tell me already, will you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about that _damn_ FBI agent you're _screwing_ around with."

Letting go of her fork, Emily glares. "Would you at least keep your voice down?"

"It's a little too late for that, Em," Sarah says, and rolls her eyes. "He's not all that subtle when he's sneaking in and out of your dorm room. There are rumors all over campus."

Emily frowns. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Sarah shrugs. "I guess I forgot. So about that party again..."

Emily shakes her head. "I can't. I've skipped too many classes lately. I have far too much work to make up."

"Oh come on, Em, we both know that's not really an issue. Stop looking for an excuse. You need some fun. And a break from that boring FBI guy. Seriously, Em, he's already rubbing off on you way too much."

"This isn't about him," Emily states once more, hating how defensive she sounds. "But if it's so important to you then, fine, I'll come."

Sarah grins. "Finally! But we have to go shopping first; how about Thursday?"

"Sure," Emily murmurs, only half listening to Sarah's plans. She had no interest in a party whatsoever, never mind a _Valentine_ _'_ _s party_.

Sarah was also wrong. The fact that she had skipped far too many of her classes lately was an issue. An issue not even her mother would be able to fix if Emily didn't get it together soon.

"You're not even listening, are you?"

Emily sighs. "I'm sorry, Sarah, I told you I'm-"

"Are you in love with him?"

"What?" Emily chuckles. "Have we met yet? Of course I'm not in love with him."

Sarah eyes her carefully, her fingers drumming absently on the table, and Emily feels the need to reach for her hand to make her stop.

"You know he has a wife, right? You haven't forgotten about that little fact?"

Emily rolls her eyes, feeling not as confident as she pretends to be. "Of course not. And I'm not in love with him, believe me, Sarah. That's just ridiculous."

"Is it?" Sarah asks, and the way she keeps looking at her makes Emily feel even more uncomfortable.

"You know what," she says suddenly. "You're right. He's rubbing off on me way too much. Let's not wait another week. Let's go out tonight!"

.

The only reason Emily ends up with her back pressed against a brick wall in a dark alley is the need to prove Sarah wrong.

She doesn't know the guy's name and she doesn't want to know it either. She just wants him to _fuck_ her.

She doesn't belong to anyone and she's going to prove not just that, but also that she most certainly isn't in love. Least of all with Aaron.

But to Emily's dismay the guy is doing it all wrong. His kisses are too sloppy, his touch too soft and careful, and if anything it makes her feel sick.

Or maybe that's just because she's had way too much to drink.

She shuts her eyes, pretending to be somewhere else, silently willing the guy to get it over with so she can go back inside to dance.

.

"Can I have your number?" the guy wants to know when they're done, and Emily almost laughs.

"No," she says, shaking her head in disbelief. The guy keeps calling something after her, but she's already done listening to him.

Straightening her skirt she steps back out onto the sidewalk, not looking where she's going and running straight into someone else.

"Sorry," she mumbles, absently looking up to flash the stranger a smile. Only to notice it's not a stranger, but Aaron. Again no suit, just some jeans and a jacket, a rare sight, at least for her.

"Hey," she starts, a smile curling at the corners of her mouth, but only for a second, until she notices the way he's looking at her. Surprised, just not in a good way.

He throws a quick look over his shoulder and it's then that Emily spots the two blonde women walking right behind him.

"Aaron, what do you think, green or yellow for the kitchen?" one of them asks, and even without ever having seen a picture Emily knows it has to be Haley.

Emily takes a step back and then another one. Aaron looking after her, his expression unreadable.

She turns, stumbling away from Aaron and past the guy she just _fucked_ and down the dark alley until all she hears is the sound of her own heels hitting the asphalt.

It's when she finally stops and with one hand against the wall to steady herself, that Emily starts to throw up.

.

He's waiting for her that night. Standing in front of her dorm room, all casual for once, looking like he belongs even when he doesn't.

Pulling her coat closer around her body to hide the vomit stains on her skirt, she fumbles with her key.

"I'm so sorry, Emily," he states, looking as miserable as she feels. Even though surely not for the same reason she does.

"What are you sorry for? Walking on the street?" Emily shakes her head, more to herself than to him. "Did she notice anything?" she adds, unable to look at him.

"No, she was talking to her sister, she didn't even see..." his voice trails off, and Emily isn't sure what she's supposed to feel.

"Which one of them was Haley?" she asks, briefly looking up at him, but not quite meeting his eyes.

"Does it matter?"

Emily shrugs, pulling her coat even tighter around herself. "I guess not."

"You alright?" he wants to know, and the guilt in his voice makes her wanna scream.

"I just had too much to drink," she explains, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her eyes fixed on her door. Of course he noticed.

 _I'm so fucking stupid._

"Emily is there something-"

"No," she cuts him off, shaking her head and wishing he would just leave.

"Do you want me to go?" he asks quietly, as if reading her mind, and Emily just nods. Feeling stupid and childish and so _fucking lost._

"We can't meet here anymore," she states suddenly, her hand around the doorknob, making him stop on his way down the hall. "Apparently people are talking," she adds, wondering what she'd gotten herself into.

"Alright," he says. "I'll think of something."

Emily nods, but stays quiet. Her eyes closed, her grip tightening. Suddenly afraid she might not be able to keep standing.

"Emily?" he asks, and she bites her lip, wishes he'd just leave her alone already. But of course he doesn't. Of course he can't. He's not just some guy.

 _Maybe that's the problem._

"I'm just drunk," she forces herself to answer, wishing she didn't sound so small. "I just need to sleep."

She pushes herself to open her door, forces herself to step inside her room. The darkness more than welcome after the glare of the bright hallway light.

"Let me do something, Emily."

"You can't," she whispers, closing the door without looking back.

.

So much for proving a point.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	18. Russian Roulette

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

 **Warning: (light) smut, nothing graphic, dark &twisty**

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 **XVIII**

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 **-Russian Roulette-**

 _(The Color In Anything/Playing Games)_

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"We could just run away," she states one night, slightly drunk and only partly joking. She's standing in the open bathroom door, wearing nothing but a towel, her hair still wet from the shower.

"Run?" Aaron echoes from where he's sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, his brows raised in amusement.

"Yeah," Emily murmurs, stepping closer towards him, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Have you ever been to Europe?" she asks, reaching for his tie.

"No," he mutters and shakes his head, and Emily can see in his eyes how much strength it takes for him not to grab her just then. She bends forward, just a little, until she's close enough to feel his breath on her face.

"Italy is nice," she states, allowing her towel to slip to the floor, before she straddles his lap. "But maybe you'd rather take your wife," she taunts, and enjoys the flicker of guilt in his eyes far too much. There's the faintest hint of hurt written on his features, and it's just as exhilarating as the fact that he never takes off his wedding band.

Maybe it's only a habit. Maybe it's to torture them both.

She's moving with perfect precision, graceful, skilled, knows what she's doing and it dawns on him too, just a little too late.

"Emily-" he warns and then stops, closing his eyes in defeat. She feels his hands come close around her, his fingers digging into her bare arms, and she wonders if it'll leave bruises on her skin.

It doesn't take much to push him over the edge and while he shudders underneath her, his grip tightening so much that it hurts, Emily's more than just a little satisfied with herself.

 _Got you._

"You just ruined a perfectly fine pair of suit pants," he groans, his face buried in her hair, his breath against her neck sending shivers down her spine.

"No," Emily chuckles. "You did."

He mumbles something she doesn't catch and with her eyes fixed on the wall behind him, Emily starts running her fingers through his hair absently.

"We should just run away," she states once more, her right hand trailing down his back ever so slowly. "We could be like Bonnie and Clyde," she adds, her fingers carefully closing around the gun against his hip.

Aaron chuckles, his teeth grazing her neck. "You do realize that I'm kind of standing on the other side, right?"

"You don't get the game, do you?" Emily rolls her eyes, unable to hide her annoyance.

"I guess I'm too old for playing games."

"Yeah," Emily murmurs, slowly pulling the gun out of its holster. "Maybe you are."

For a moment there's nothing, no answer, no movement, and Emily briefly wonders if he noticed. Maybe. She doesn't give him the time to do anything though. She moves fast, his gun pressed against her temple while she pulls back ever so slightly.

"Have you ever played Russian Roulette?" she asks, biting her lip in anticipation. He stills, his eyes growing wide. He swallows.

"You need a revolver for that."

Emily smirks, nods. "I know."

"Please put the gun down, Emily. That's not funny."

 _Oh, but it is. Just wait and see._

"Are you scared?" she teases, her fingers closing even tighter around the gun, and she can see in his eyes that he's considering his options, probably wondering-

"Do you even know how to use a gun?"

"Actually, I do," Emily answers, clicking the safety off without so much as a blink.

"Put it down," he starts again, and he sounds just as frantic as he looks.

"Have you ever killed someone?" Emily asks casually, her eyes searching his. She already knows the answer, but she enjoys how uncomfortable the question makes him.

 _Or maybe that's just the gun against my temple._

"No, I haven't."

"Do you think you could?"

"You shouldn't ask things like that."

"That's not an answer."

"If I have to, yes," he shuts his eyes, but only briefly. "You've had your fun, Emily. Would you please put the gun down now?"

"Would you please put the gun down?" Emily chuckles. "Are you going to argue with a serial killer, too?"

"Emily-"

"I wonder, how would you explain it if I blew my brains out right now? Do you think you could talk your way out of it?" She bends closer towards him, her right hand holding the gun in a death grip.

"You're married, but you're here twice a week with a woman that's not your wife. Spending hours in a hotel room that's paid for by Ambassador Prentiss. I'm naked, drunk, and the gun in my hand belongs to you."

She has already pushed it too far, Emily knows, but she doesn't stop, instead she just smiles, her lips close against his.

"Let's not forget the little fact that I'm only nineteen years old."

It happens so fast she barely has time to blink.

He's got his hand around the gun; it's pulled out of her grasp and thrown to the floor in nothing short of a second, before it slithers to the other end of the room and out of her reach.

"Have you lost your _fucking_ mind?" he growls, grabbing her tightly before lifting her up and pushing her back down on the mattress with one swift movement, his body hovering over hers.

"Finally losing your patience, huh?" Emily jokes, enjoying the painful pounding in her wrist.

"What were you thinking?" he asks, his eyes all dark and furious, and she can't help but reach for his tie, pulling him down towards her. He looks confused, utterly confused, and Emily locks her legs around his back to keep him close. His anger making her long for his touch.

"You wouldn't have pulled the trigger," he states quietly, and Emily's not sure who he's trying to convince.

 _No. Not with you in the room, love._

She says nothing though, her fingers tracing the side of his face almost gently. She's never had a thing for being gentle, taking it slow, but she wonders if he does.

"You can't play people like this."

"Are you teaching me a lesson now?" Emily smirks, her brows raised playfully.

"Somebody should," he scoffs, his gaze never breaking away from hers, and all she wants to do is run. She doesn't need his compassion. She doesn't need him at all. She needs no one.

"Well," she breathes, her hand reaching for his belt. "We really shouldn't be doing this then."

"Emily-" he starts, his voice already raised, and she thinks it sounds like a warning. But maybe it's just a plea.

"Yeah?" she asks all innocently, her hand already in his boxers, coming close around him.

He groans, his eyes falling shut. "Maybe I'll start teaching you tomorrow."

"That's what I thought," Emily whispers before crashing her lips against his.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	19. Sweetheart, What Have You Done

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

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 **XIX**

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 **-Sweetheart, What Have You Done-**

 _(The Color In Anything/Campus)_

.

.

He shouldn't be there.

Not in broad daylight, probably not at all. Most definitely not in his suit, making it all too obvious that he doesn't belong.

But despite his better judgment he's there, searching for her. _Emily_. Of course.

He hadn't seen or talked to her in days and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He shouldn't care, he really shouldn't, _it's not right,_ none of this is, _not really,_ but he can't help it.

When he finds her, seated on a bench under a tree, a bag and a stack of books to her right, a notebook on her knees and a pen in her hand, lost in whatever she's working on, he can't help but stare.

It's not just the fact that she's breathtakingly beautiful, _and she is_ , it's not even the fact that she's strikingly different, _no_ , it's something else, something he can't quite name, something that makes him risk everything without thinking twice about it.

She looks up suddenly, a frown growing on her face the moment her eyes find his.

"You shouldn't be here."

He swallows, nods. "I know. But you haven't answered any of my calls."

"I was busy," she mutters, her eyes back on her notebook, and he moves forward to sit down next to her, even when it's obvious that she doesn't want him to. There are streaks of blue and pink in her raven hair, and Aaron wonders when that happened.

"What are you planning to do after college?" he asks after a moment, realizing not for the first time that he knows practically nothing about her.

 _Except for her body._

"I thought about becoming a contract killer," Emily answers nonchalantly. Her pen moving over the paper effortlessly. "I'm pretty good with a gun. But you already know that."

"I'm serious."

"Who says I'm not?"

"Emily-"

"I don't know," she says, and rolls her eyes at him, bored not only with the conversation, but probably him too. "Maybe I'll just start robbing banks. Or maybe become a Black Widow. That would suit me well, don't you think?"

Aaron holds back a chuckle. "So basically you don't have a plan?"

"What if I don't?" she prompts, looking back at him curiously. "Maybe I don't need a plan."

"Everyone needs a plan."

"Why?" Emily asks, and he's taken aback by how furious she sounds all of a sudden. "Do you want me to join the FBI so you can _fuck_ me in the copy room every time you feel like it?"

"I didn't-"

"I don't need your _bloody_ advice, Aaron. I've got a mother for that _shit_." She glares back at him before gathering her belongings. "This thing between us has been going on for far too long. I think it's about time we end it."

Aaron stares, not sure what just happened.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he frowns, reaching for her hand to make her stop. She stills, turning her head slightly to look at him. "Did you talk to your mother?" he asks. "Is that why you haven't answered any of my calls?"

"Don't you get it?" Emily snaps, her voice laced with anger, but her eyes filled with pain. "I'm not good for you. I'm not good for anyone! I destroy everything I touch, everything I-"

She stops, briefly closing her eyes before she bends towards him, closer and closer until her hair brushes against his face, her lips only inches from his and all he want's to do is kiss her. He can't think when she's so close.

 _But that's exactly what she wants, isn't it?_

"I don't care about you or anyone else," she murmurs, her eyes growing dark, her voice sickly sweet. "I never have and I never will. And you," she draws back slowly, her eyes never breaking away from his while she shoves his gun into his hands. "You should really mind your gun."

"How did you-" Aaron starts and stops, reaching for his holster, startled, not sure how she tricked him again. She shouldn't have been able to.

Emily steps back, shrugs. "You're the FBI agent. You tell me."

She turns abruptly, looking over the campus as if searching for something, before stuffing her things into her bag. He follows her gaze, frowns when he spots a man in his late forties watching them intensely from the parking lot.

"Who is that?" Aaron asks, not sure if he wants to know.

"One of my professors."

"I don't like the way he's staring at you."

Emily laughs. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't like the way you're staring at me either."

"Are you sleeping with him too?"

"Are you still sleeping with your wife?" Emily throws back at him without so much as a blink.

"Don't call me again," she adds a moment later, shouldering her bag, ready to leave. "And don't come back here either."

"What if I do?" he asks. "What if I can't stay away from you?" He already knows he won't. _He can't._ It's far too late for that.

Emily stills, her eyes finding his, the sadness in hers betraying everything she just told him.

"I'm going to be the death of you," she whispers. "That much I can promise."

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	20. You Can See The Devil In Her Eyes

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

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 **XX**

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 **-You Can See The Devil In Her Eyes-**

 _(The Color In Anything/Dancing I)_

.

.

The only reason he comes with her is because she asks and saying no to Emily just isn't an option. That's the lesson Aaron learned first.

Of course he doesn't fit there, even less than he fits on her campus at Yale. He doesn't fit into her life at all if he's being honest, just like she doesn't fit into his. But maybe that's the point.

He's watching her from afar, leaning against the wall of the underground club, with a bottle of beer in his hand he has no intention of drinking, while Emily dances only a few feet away from him.

She's wearing a breathtakingly short dress over a pair of fishnet stockings, her studded belt and bracelet reflecting the colorful light from the ceiling with every move she makes. Her dark hair is falling down her back in curls tonight, her lips painted a deep red. Her porcelain skin a stark contrast to her black clothes.

The music isn't anything Aaron would usually listen to, _hell no_ , but the way Emily's dancing, spinning ever so gracefully, he wishes it would never stop playing. There's seduction in every movement she makes and he finds himself walking towards her without even meaning to, her body calling out to him like a siren.

When he slips his arm around her waist her eyes flash open, and if he hadn't known any better he'd have said her eyes were black.

She reaches for his beer, a smile curling at her lips before she hands it over to a guy to her right, a guy Aaron saw her talking to earlier. When she pulls her hand back there's a pair of blue pills in her palm and a daring look on her flawless face.

He should stop her. He knows better than this. _Doesn't he?_ But there's no stopping her. Not Emily.

Subtly shaking his head, Aaron watches as she takes both, her dark eyes aflame when she tilts her head back. She's laughing and he pulls her closer against his chest, his hands on her hips, unable to resist.

It's she who starts kissing him, almost innocently at first. But with Emily nothing's ever innocent and Aaron's lost in a heated kiss only a heartbeat later, thinking that he's never felt more alive than when he's with her.

It's going to be the end of him. _She will._ He's sure of it.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	21. The World Belongs To Me

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

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 **XXI**

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 **-The World Belongs To Me-**

 _(The Color In Anything/Dancing II)_

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.

It's a warm, star lit summer night and from where Emily's lying on the roof of the car the world couldn't look more beautiful.

 _At least not to her._

She's watching the sky, searching for a shooting star on the dark horizon until everything starts to blur in front of her eyes. With her eyes wide open she keeps looking, a smile curling at the corners of her mouth, sure she's never felt as carefree as she does now.

She's young and happy and _fucking high_ , the whole world lying at her feet. There's nothing she can't do, nothing she can't have. Not tonight. Not ever.

Turning her head slightly, her eyes find Aaron's from where he's standing next to the car, his hand curled around hers, making sure she's not going to fall, and she has to hold back a chuckle. _As if she would ever fall._

He's watching her carefully, his dark eyes filled with worry and amazement and something else, and Emily wonders if that's why he keeps coming back to her even when he knows she's nothing but trouble.

She doesn't fit into his neat world consisting of laws and rules and rights and wrongs. She's everything he isn't, and he's everything she never wants to become. And despite what he might think, it has nothing to do with her age.

She wants more. _So much more._ And she's going to get it. One way or the other.

Reaching for his shirt she pulls him closer, skidding to the edge to meet him halfway and ignoring everything he tells her about her studded belt leaving scratches on the varnish.

 _What the fuck does she care about her mother's car anyway?_

She must have said it out loud because he starts cursing under his breath, telling her to come down and drive back to DC before her mother notices it's missing. Emily just rolls her eyes as Aaron keeps talking and talking until she finally shuts him up with a kiss.

There's nothing sweet about it. But then, there's nothing sweet about her either.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	22. Come Undone

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

 **WARNING: might be trigger-ish, dark &twisty**

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 **XXII**

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 **-Come Undone-**

 _(The Color In Anything/Snow)_

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It's cold, freezing cold, the whole campus buried under a thick blanket of snow and ice.

Emily's sitting on the steps in front of her building, sparsely dressed despite the cold, watching the snow between her shoes turn pink. It's just a nosebleed, only because of the cold, nothing she hadn't had before, but she watches, intrigued by every drop that turns the white into a pool of pink.

"You're bleeding," David states unnecessarily when he comes to a sudden stop next to her, his hands in his jeans pockets.

"You think?"

"Do you need a tissue or something?" David asks, and Emily rolls her eyes.

"You know what I want. Do you have it?"

"No, actually..." he gets silent, and Emily looks up, the back of her hand pressed against her nose. David looks uncomfortable.

"I don't have anything. You have to wait a few more days. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Emily spits. "I have to write a _fucking_ paper. How am I supposed to do that? I'm already on edge!"

David shrugs. "Try to get some sleep for a change."

"What are you? My _damn_ mother?" Emily asks with an angry glare, not even trying to keep her voice down. It was late and freezing, and there wasn't anyone around anyway. "How long until you get something?"

"I don't know. A few days. I'm trying my best."

"Well, your best obviously isn't enough," Emily mutters before getting to her feet and heading off in the direction of the parking lot.

.

It's a vivid image she can't shake, coming out of nowhere and interfering with everything else. A brightly colored, bloody, image and even though Emily's desperate in her attempt to push it out of her mind it doesn't work.

Her head hurts and her eyes sting and nothing is the same, not tonight. His touch feels precarious, his movements out of tune and she just isn't sure why she's in that _stupid_ hotel room in the first place.

It's wrong. It's always been wrong. But it's never felt as wrong as it does tonight.

She's getting more and more distracted, _frustrated_ , and of course he has to _fucking_ notice.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice too soft and too gentle, and she wonders if that's how he talks to his wife.

"Yeah," she breathes against his lips, forcefully tearing at his button down where she has him locked between her legs. "I'm good."

They didn't bother getting fully undressed, _she didn't_ , too anxious to get that bloody image out of her head. But it doesn't help, tonight nothing does.

She's so close it's unbearable, but she just can't _get off_ , her whole body tense, denying her any sort of release.

She feels tears burn behind closed eyes, angry, painful tears, and she slips her hand under her skirt, down between her legs, her fingers moving fast, but to no avail and she's lost in her distress, so _fucking_ lost that it takes her a while to notice that Aaron is pulling away from her.

She tries to hold him back, but he's stronger and she just can't.

"No, Emily, no, wait," he says, breathing hard. "I can't, not like this," he states, all apologetic, and Emily wants to scream.

"I'm fine," she says, even though there are tears pricking her eyes and he's already seen them.

"What happened?" he asks her softly, his hand reaching for her face, his fingers brushing against her cheek ever so carefully. But all she sees is that vivid image from before along with an almost painful longing to end it all.

She's never felt so sad, so empty, so lost before, and breathing never hurt as much as it does now.

"Talk to me Emily," he begs, all worried now. "What is it? Did I hurt you?"

"No. It's nothing," she whispers, swinging her legs out of bed and slapping his hands away when he tries to stop her, heading for the bathroom. She locks the door behind her, ignoring his calls form the other side of the door.

With her hands around the sink she stares at her reflection in the mirror and all she wants to do is slit her wrists.

 _No, no, no. Stop it, Emily. Fucking stop it._

Pressing her hands against her ears to block out Aaron's pleas, she tries to fight the urge to scream. But it's still there, that bloody image, Emily unable to fight off any longer. It's never been as overwhelming, as pressing, as it's now and she's barely able to draw a _goddamn_ breath.

She can't explain where it's coming from, the sadness, the darkness, that feeling that it's never going to change, that she's stuck in this life she can't stand.

 _There's no way out, isn't there?_

With an angry scream she reaches for the soap dish next to the sink and throws it against the mirror, watches as her own reflection shatters into pieces. And for one moment, _one precious moment,_ everything goes silent.

She grabs a shard of glass without hesitation, smiles at the stinging pain when her hand comes close around it. She moves it over the inside of her arm, grazing her porcelain skin carefully, just a little, and then a little bit more, her eyes widening when the smooth skin splits open, a few drops of red blooming on the surface. She presses harder, just a little bit, until the blood starts flowing, falling to the white tiles in a steady rhythm.

The door flies open without warning, Aaron stumbling into the bathroom, and before she knows it he's pulled her into his arms, his hand around hers, and everything implodes.

She's screaming, no, that's just inside her head, but something's wrong with her breathing, her chest heaving.

She's on the floor, her back against his chest, his voice close against her ear. He tells her to breathe, but she can't, isn't sure if she even wants to. There's blood on her arm and her shirt and the floor and it hurts, it hurts so _fucking_ bad, but at least she feels something and it's better than nothing at all.

When he lifts her into the bathtub, climbing in behind her, she barely notices. He keeps yelling at her to breathe and she doesn't understand what he wants until ice cold water hits her skin, a thousand tiny needles stabbing her skin.

She draws a shuddering breath, painfully gasping for air, _again and again_ , until air starts filling her lungs again.

"That's it," he whispers from where he's sitting behind her, her back against his chest, and Emily thinks that he's just ruined both of their clothes, wondering how they were supposed to get home.

There's a towel pressed against the cut on her forearm, blood and water slowly seeping through the white cotton, and Emily starts getting curious if it'll leave a scar on her once flawless skin.

"Damaged goods," she whispers to herself, a frantic laugh bubbling in her throat.

 _How fitting._

.

When Emily wakes up the room is flooded with sunlight.

She's lying in the king sized hotel bed, Aaron watching her from next to the window, his suit pants wrinkled, his button down pushed up the the elbows, bloody red dots decorating the front.

"You scared me," he states outright, his voice strained, his eyes dark. "You really scared me, Emily."

"It was nothing," she breathes, and regrets it immediately when she notices his body grow tense. "I just needed some sleep," she tries to explain, and it's not even a lie. She's feeling better, much better, but also ashamed, and looking at him is getting really difficult.

"You should go," she says, swallows. "I'll take care of..." She motions towards the bathroom, remembering the broken mirror and the blood.

"You don't expect me to leave you alone here, do you?" he laughs; it sounds all wrong and nothing like him. "Are you going to tell me what's gotten into you?"

Emily shakes her head, not sure how to answer his questions. "I don't know what happend," she starts. "But I'm feeling fine now."

And she does. No matter how she felt the night before, now she just feels ridiculous and childish and she thinks David might be right: maybe she should stop partying for a while. Maybe she's taken it too far.

"I'm alright, Aaron. I didn't mean for anything bad to happen, I promise."

"You seemed really determined last night," he murmurs, his gaze never breaking away from hers. "Are you suicidal?"

"No!" Emily snaps, no idea what to tell him, her cheeks flushed in anger and embarrassment. "I hadn't slept in two days, that's all. I was just tired and stressed, I..." her voice trails off. There's nothing to say. She can't talk herself out if it because she isn't even sure what it is.

"I'm really sorry," she tells him again, watches as he furrows his brows.

"Are you?"

He looks tired and worried, broken, completely torn apart, and Emily doesn't like knowing that she can do this to him. As much as she enjoys having the upper hand, and using her body to get what she wants, playing everyone around here, seeing him like this isn't something she ever wanted to happen.

She loves _fucking_ with other people's lives, _yes,_ but only those who deserve it. Aaron isn't one of those people. Never has been. He didn't deserve any of this, and her mother was right when she told her that she ruined everyone and everything around her. Emily's never felt bad for it, until now.

They've become too close. Aaron and her, Emily knows. Far too close. It wasn't just about sex anymore, not for him.

And it's then that she finally understands.

 _He loves me._

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	23. Nobody Breaks My Heart

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

 **I borrowed the "Nobody breaks my heart" line from Effy (Skins, UK).**

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 **XXIII**

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 **-Nobody Breaks My Heart-**

 _(The Color In Anything/More Deals)_

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.

When Emily comes home her mother is already waiting for her in the hall.

"You're late," Elizabeth Prentiss states impatiently, and Emily has to fight the urge to roll her eyes at her.

"I'm sorry, but I've got better things to do."

"Like what?" her mother asks with raised brows, before motioning for Emily to follow her into the office. "Where is that scar from?"

Emily frowns, confused as to what her mother is talking about, until she finds her staring at her left arm.

 _Fuck._

"I don't remember," Emily states with a slight shrug, wishing she'd chosen a long sleeved shirt despite the summer heat.

"Does that mean you were drunk when it happened?"

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes once more, Emily sits down in front of her mother's desk. "Why am I here?" she asks, anxious to sound as bored as possible.

"You need to understand how important it is that you'll be here on Friday night," her mother explains, taking a seat behind her desk.

Holding back a groan, Emily shakes her head. "No, I already told you I've got plans."

"Rearrange them," Elizabeth insists, regarding her with a disapproving look, and Emily wonders if it's her behavior or her black clothes or both.

"Why would I do that?" she wonders, absently playing with her studded bracelet, enjoying the way her mother's brow furrows again in anger.

"Do you have any idea how bad it would look if my own daughter wasn't there?"

"Sure, but why would I care about that?"

Her mother takes a breath and Emily has to stifle a laugh.

"I'm certain we can come to an agreement, don't you think? There's surely something on your short list, isn't there?"

"I guess," Emily muses, a smug smile curling at the corner of her mouth. "I'm sick of living in a dorm room," she continues, faintly curious about how far she could push her luck this time. "I want an apartment. And a car."

Her mother offers her a thin-lipped smile before she nods. "Alright."

"Just like that?" Emily prompts doubtfully, but her mother gives a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Getting you an apartment will be much less expensive than paying your hotel room bills."

Crossing one leg over the other, Emily leans back in her chair. "And the car?"

"We can talk about something that suits a woman your age. Nothing expensive. And only if you play by the rules."

"And what exactly are those rules?"

"You just have to behave the way I taught you to. No drugs, no alcohol, no cigarettes. No flirting, no sassy comments. Just polite conversation. And you definitely need a decent dress."

Emily chuckles. "You want me to show of my talents too?"

"Your academic ones, absolutely."

"Maybe you should write me a script," Emily suggests, eying her mother smugly from across the desk. But Elizabeth doesn't even blink.

"You know how to act without one. But please do something with your hair. You can't show up with blue and pink streaks."

"Fine," Emily agrees with feigned annoyance, already back on her feet. What her mother wanted was simple. She could pull that off effortlessly. She just hadn't expected her mother to relent so easily.

"A driver will pick you up at eight and not a second later," her mothers adds, her voice firm. "Are we clear?"

"Crystal." Emily nods and gives her mother a halfhearted smile before she makes her way to the door.

"Does his wife know about you?"

The question makes Emily stop dead in her tracks. "Excuse me?" she mutters, slowly turning around to meet her mother's gaze. "I don't think I understand."

"Of course you do," Elizabeth answers, her eyes searching Emily's. " Don't look so surprised. You should have known that I would hear about this. After all I'm the one paying your bills."

"Why are you telling me now?" Emily asks, sounding a lot more confident than she feels. "Do you want me to stop seeing him?"

"That's entirely up to you. I just wanted you to remember that your actions have consequences. Not only for your own life, but others as well."

"Thanks for clearing that up for me, Mother. But the truth is, you're just scared what people will say about you if it ever comes out."

"Believe me or not, but that's not my greatest concern, Emily. I think that if you're not careful this might break your heart."

Emily shakes her head, an all-knowing smile on her lips. "Nobody breaks my heart."

"I really hope you're right." There's a warmth in her mother's eyes Emily's never seen before, but then she blinks and it's gone, and Emily isn't sure it was there in the first place.

"See you on Friday," Emily mutters before she turns and leaves.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	24. We Will Never Be

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

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 **XXIV**

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 **-We Will Never Be-**

 _(The Color In Anything/April 2007)_

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He finds Emily hiding in the stairwell, sitting on the top step, a strained expression on her face and her hands tightly balled into fists.

"There you are," he states unnecessarily, closing the door behind him before taking a seat right next to her.

"Tell me she left," Emily begs, her voice laced with anger and frustration, hoping against hope that her mother was gone.

"No," Aaron replies, wishing he could tell her something else. "She's still looking for you."

"Great," she mutters, followed by a string of curse words in every language she's fluent in, and Aaron has to stifle a laugh.

"I'll admit, she's even more intimidating than I remember her."

Taking a deep breath, Emily turns her head. "You think?" she prompts, clearly on edge by the whole situation, and not for the first time that day Aaron wishes he could do something to make it better.

"Does your mother know about us?" he asks, trying to mask his growing unease.

There's a flicker of amusement in Emily's eyes. "Are you scared?" she wants to know, and Aaron gives a slight shrug.

"Just feeling uncomfortable."

Emily sighs. "I'm not even sure how she knew where to find me," she murmurs, briefly looking down at her hands. "I haven't talked to her in years."

"Years?" Aaron raises his brows.

"Aside from impersonal birthday and Christmas cards, yes, years."

"You'll definitely know how to do it better with your own kids then," Aaron muses, feeling the need to reach for her hand. He doesn't.

"No," Emily shakes her head. "I wouldn't do it any differently, and my kids would despise me just as much as I despise my own mother. It's a good thing I won't have any."

Aaron stops, a frown growing on his face. "You don't want to have children?"

"No," Emily states, her eyes finding his. "Don't look at me like that. If you want any siblings for Jack you have to talk to Haley, not me."

There's finality in her voice, making clear this wasn't open for discussion, and he wonders why he hadn't already known.

"You didn't expect..." she mutters suddenly, her eyes widening slightly, and Aaron turns his head away.

"You never told me," he murmurs, swallows. Not sure why her statement hurts so much.

"I didn't think it was necessary."

It becomes quiet, an uncomfortable silence, and Aaron thinks it might be the right moment to tell Emily how complicated things had become with Haley. It was only a matter of time until she would take Jack and leave, Aaron was certain. Not that he could blame her. He had been betraying her for years now.

"We should go back," he says, forcing himself to push the guilt and regret away. Now wasn't the time to deal with his personal problems; they had a case to solve.

Emily nods. "Maybe I should just have dinner with her and get it over with."

"She might surprise you," Aaron tries to encourage her, his hand reaching for hers after all. It's Emily who pulls back instantly.

"Someone could walk in on us," she warns, making Aaron chuckle.

"Are you kidding me? You're the one who-" he stops when she gets up, starting her way down the stairs in a haze.

Taken by surprise Aaron asks, "Where are you going?"

"It would be obtrusive if we walk out of the stairwell together, don't you think?" Emily winks. "Don't worry, I'm not going to leave, I'll take the elevator back up from the ground floor."

He watches her for a moment before calling after her. "Emily-" he starts and then stops when she comes to a sudden halt, her eyes finding his from where she's standing further down the stairs.

"If you got pregnant, what would you do?"

A shadow crosses her features and he almost regrets asking. "It's not going to happen," Emily states, all calm and self-assured, only the turmoil in her dark eyes giving her away.

"But what if it happened anyway? You know there's always that one percent-"

"I wouldn't have it, Aaron. I'm not Haley. I don't want to have a family. If you can't handle that..." her voice trails off, and he watches as her grip tightens around the railing. At first it looks like she wants to add something, but then she doesn't and Aaron stays quiet too, afraid he'll only end up pushing her further away from him.

 _Maybe he already had._

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


	25. A Moment Of Truth

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**

 **AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!**

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 **XXV**

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 **-A Moment Of Truth-**

 _(The Color In Anything/June 2011)_

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She's nine months pregnant when her mother shows up on her doorstep. No, not hers. It's their house, Aaron and hers, a three-story home, too spacious for a family of five, even though Emily still feels cramped.

"So it is true then," her mother declares instead of greeting her, eyes on Emily's round stomach. "Imagine my surprise when my housekeeper congratulated me on becoming a grandmother."

Emily has to hold back a groan. "Why are you here?" she asks, stepping backwards to let her mother in, wishing she never answered the door in the first place.

"I came to see for myself."

"You could have just called me."

"Would you have told me the truth if I had?" Elizabeth prompts, and Emily has to admit she has a point. Closing the door, she briefly shuts her eyes and silently counts to ten before turning around to face her mother's questioning stare.

"Go ahead, tell me what you think, but just so you know, I already know I _fucked_ up." The bitterness is evident in her voice, but Emily can't help it. She's never felt so frustrated.

"I figure it wasn't a planned pregnancy."

"You think?" Emily spits angrily, and regrets it immediately. She takes a breath, reminding herself to stay calm. "I'm sorry, I'm just tired," she murmurs apologetically, moving past her mother to make her way back into the living room.

"You should at least try and act like you're happy."

"Because that worked so well for you?" Emily mocks while lowering herself onto the couch, trying her best to find a comfortable sitting position.

"You're having twins?" There's a hint of surprise in her mother's voice and Emily follows her gaze, remembering only then that Aaron had left the twin-stroller they bought out on the patio last night.

"Yeah," Emily mutters reluctantly, and watches with a growing unease as her mother pulls her checkbook out of her purse. "What are you doing? I don't need your money."

"Consider it a wedding gift."

Emily frowns, wondering how her mother could know about the wedding until she remembers the still unfamiliar ring on her finger.

"We didn't celebrate; it was just Aaron and me." She's not sure why she feels the need to point that out, especially to her mother, but Elizabeth doesn't even blink.

"Is it Emily Hotchner then?" she asks unaffectedly, and Emily slowly shakes her head.

"No, only the kids will have his last name. I kept mine."

"You got married for your children then," her mother notes, a strange undertone in her voice Emily can't make sense of. "Like mother, like daughter," Elizabeth murmurs when she hands Emily the check.

Emily considers giving it back when she sees the amount, but whether she likes to admit it or not, she knows they're going to need it. She hasn't told anyone yet, not even Aaron, but she won't go back to the BAU.

"Maybe I'll just leave when they're born," she blurts without thinking, the ugly truth spilling from her lips before she can stop herself. "Aaron wanted them," she mutters, the words harsh, but true. "He might as well take care of them."

There's the sharp intake of breath, followed by a long pause before her mother answers: "You don't mean that, Emily."

"How would you know?" Emily chuckles, amused at how certain her mother seems to be. "You have no idea who I am. You never cared because you never wanted to have me either."

"That's not true."

Emily scoffs, more hurt than angry. "You have a really weird way of showing it."

There's another pause, an uncomfortable silence settling between them, and Emily's sure her mother's going to leave. Not that Emily could blame her. Not even Aaron could stand her sudden mood swings anymore.

But instead of leaving, her mother steps closer, her gaze never breaking. "It's too late for me to change, Emily, but maybe it's not too late for you. Don't make the same mistakes I did. Despite what I may have taught you, love doesn't make you weak."

"I regret a lot of things, Emily," Elizabeth adds. "But having you isn't one of them."

.

Emily keeps sitting on the couch long after her mother has left, her hands carefully laid on her pregnant belly until she feels a familiar twinge from inside.

For the first time it makes her smile.

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.**


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